#Warren Stringer

[uwmspeccoll]

Decorative Sunday

The patterned papers shown here were designed and created with software developed by Warren Stringer and Beth Regardz, laser printed on handmade colored Japanese Moriki paper using multiple layers of metallic foils, and published in a miniature (75 x 75 mm) Coptic-bound book entitled Patterns from Chaos, produced in Santa Cruz, California by Peter & Donna Thomas in 1991 in an edition of 50 copies signed by all four.

The concept of chaos theory and cellular automata was developed in Santa Cruz at University of California Santa Cruz by Ralph Abraham and colleagues. Warren Stringer wrote original code in Santa Cruz based on these concepts. Beth Regardz co-founded the Cabrillo College Digital Media program where Peter Thomas took his first computer classes from her.

Peter and Donna collaborated with Regardz and Stringer on the concept and design for this book. To create the images each sheet of Moriki paper was passed through the printer two times for each color (once to apply the toner and once to fuse the metallic foil to the paper). Thus an image with three colors passed thru the printer six times. Our copy of Patterns form Chaos is a gift from Peter & Donna Thomas.

View more posts on decorative papers.

View more posts with books by Peter and Donna Thomas.

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[literaturereviewhelp]

Leadership plays a very essential role in every organization. Leaders act as change agents within organizations. They motivate as well as build the trust and confidence of the people within the organization. This report aims at understanding the various approaches to leadership that have been developed over the past. The aim of this report is to gain a clear understanding of the traditional concepts and approaches to leadership. Also focus will be drawn to the development of the concept of charismatic leadership and how it fits in to the general theories on leadership. A focus will also be made on how the ‘new genre of leadership theory’ has been taken up and further developed since 1992 by House and other researchers. The next section will detail the traditional theories that have been set down in the past. Leadership Theories There have been a number of different theories and approaches that have been developed in the past by various authors and experts in the field. This section will detail the various theories which will allow getting a clear understanding of the concept. The various authors and their theories are as follows: a) Daniel Goleman’s Approach: Daniel Goleman’s approach consists of six major styles of leadership. In his book Primal Leadership, he has highlighted that good leaders are effective because they create resonance. Based on this he explained resonance can be done in six ways, which in turn lead to the leadership styles. These styles included visionary leadership, coaching leadership, affiliative leadership, democratic leadership, pacesetting leadership and commanding leadership (Goleman, 2006). According to Goleman, all leaders’ categories into these styles of leadership, and the most useful type of leadership among these the visionary leadership style. Here the leaders inspire employees and believes in its own vision, along with being empathetic. It also highlights how the efforts from all the people within an organization, contribute to the ‘dream’. This type of leadership style has proved to be the most beneficial for companies where change is required and a new vision is required (Goleman, 2006). The other styles that Goleman has discussed within his book are the coaching style, which falls in the second best style of leadership for companies. This method is where the leaders are listeners and helps people identify their strengths and weaknesses, and in a number of aspects they also act as counselors, encouragers and delegates. This has proved to be the second best method of leadership and is most effective to help competent and motivated employees to improve their performance (Goleman, 2006). This is mainly done by building long – term capabilities. The other four styles as expressed by Goleman have not proved to be very useful to companies and are mainly to help motivate employees during stressful times. These help build a support for employees to get higher results like in the case of sales and finally in cases of severe crisis. The next section will detail the approach provided by Warren Bennis. b) Warren Bennis’s Approach: Warren Bennis also known as ‘The Father of Modern Leadership’ as per the Fortune Magazine has created a strong image in the contemporary leadership styles and no study of leadership will be complete including his finding and research (Crosby, 1997). According to him, leaders pull rather than push, and have the ability to empower and trust others to act. Also with a clear vision in their minds, they rightly communicate the vision to all the teams (Bennis, 1999). Leaders also work through teams and not based on hierarchies. Also it has been noted that leaders have stringer self confidence and self esteem, along with a positive attitude. It is also to be noted that leaders have a good grasp of self and they understand their strengths, develop their skills and also have a clear idea of how to use their talents Read the full article

[dankusner]

Will questions about Kennedy, King killings be answered?

Trump’s release of documents might finally reveal the truth

On Jan. 23, President Donald Trump signed an executive order providing declassification of government records concerning the assassinations of President John F. Kennedy, Sen. Robert F. Kennedy and the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. Hopefully, this order will be implemented and reveal just what the CIA and other agencies are still concealing.

Over 60 years after JFK was assassinated in Dallas, a November 2023 Gallup Poll showed that 65% of the public still believes there was a conspiracy.

Why do the CIA and other government agencies still insist on withholding documents and redacting others?

Trump released only some of the withheld documents in 2017, and President Joe Biden released some of the others, but they were required by the JFK Records Act to release them all.

So why does this issue still matter?

In addition to the 65% who believe in a conspiracy, according to a June 2024 report by Pew Research Center, Americans’ trust in government has gone from 77% to 22% in the last 60 years.

Americans don’t trust that they’re getting the full story about what happened in Dallas that awful day.

And many are haunted by loose ends like these:

Former President Lyndon B. Johnson said in 1973 that the assassination had been part of a conspiracy.

“I never believed that Oswald acted alone, although I can accept that he pulled the trigger,” LBJ said.

Former President Richard Nixon said the Warren Commission report was “the greatest hoax that has ever been perpetuated.”

The commission based its narrative on Exhibit CE 399, the so-called magic bulletthat allegedly entered JFK’s back, exited his neck and then caused a variety of wounds to Gov. John Connally.

The FBI, to its credit, never bought that story and neither did a myriad of experts who tried to replicate the shot and end up with a pristine bullet like the one found on a stretcher at Parkland Hospital.

Just last year, Secret Service agent Paul Landis revealed that he found the bullet in the limo’s back seat and placed it on JFK’s gurney.

Of the commission’s seven members, three did not subscribe to the single-bullet theory.

They were Sens. Richard Russell and John Cooper, and U.S. Rep. Hale Boggs, The Athens Observer reported in 1989.

The scene of the crime, the limo, was partially scrubbed of evidence at Parkland Hospital and then finally scrubbed on Nov. 25 in Washington D.C., as reported by Douglas P. Horne of the Assassination Records Review Board in his book, Inside the Assassination Records Review Board.

The two people who took and developed official photos at JFK’s autopsy, John Stringer and Saundra Spencer, both testified that the photos submitted to the Warren Commission were not the ones they took or developed.

The above facts are merely the tip of the iceberg.

Those who still believe that Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone need only ask themselves why records have been redacted and withheld for over 60 years.

Then ask whether Oswald could have been the one to carry out the cover-up.

[andynortonuk]

LUCID | a short film from SUBLUNAR FILMS on Vimeo.

At an art school in the 90s, young outsider Mia (Caitlin Taylor) embarks on a morbid quest for pure self-expression when she creates a self-portrait for her classmates that ultimately reveals her true heart’s enchantment with the grotesque. 16 mins 37 sec

Directed by Deanna Milligan @sublunarfilms Produced by Deanna Milligan @sublunarfilms, Ramsey Fendall @sublunarfilms and Claire Robertson @clairerobertsonart Cinematography by Ramsey Fendall @sublunarfilms Written by Claire Robertson @clairerobertsonart Executive Producers Vivian Su + Elizabeth Yake @elizabethyake Composer Marta Jaciubek-McKeever @martamckeever Starring Caitlin Taylor as Mia @oakandbone Stacy Grant as Ms Wendy @stacyandthegang Georgia Acken as Little Mia @georgia_acken Peter Hoskins as Bernie Metta Rose as Agatha @mettarose Keith Picot as Hugh @keithpicot Christie Roome as Sister Anna-Maria @christieroome John Luna as Frederick Ferdinand @johnluna George William Lambert as Christof @georgewilliamlambert Goth Girls Nicole Bartosinski + @nicole.anna_ Sadie Dufour sadie_mariie + Jana Morrison janamorrison.getusedtoit Nathan + Abby Corpus as Sam + Sarah @abbycorpus.soprano @nathan.corpus Shane Strom as Squid @shane.strom Kane OScalleigh as Sheena @knockoutscallywag Elisabeth Hinshelwood as Veronique @lizardela Susan Ko as Marilyn the Life Model @susanko2116 Gene Sargent as Alberto @genetsarg Avalon Barber as Pinkie @avalonchey Rianne Delahunt as Charlotte @riannedelahunt Atticus Cohen-Yelle as Alex @acohenyelle Liz Colangelo as Receptionist mzz_lizzie Bobby Cleveland Butcher & Skater @crail_skatan Claire E Robertson as Bad Driver @clairerobertsonart Graham McDonald as Janitor @ug.mcd Jared Warren as Rolf Zander Jacobs + Sage Dyck + Mia Luna + Grace Fanstone + Chase Rhodes as Tipper + Naomi + Ellie + Pip + Kingsley Ben LaBarre Sparkle Brite Window Washer @bmovieben

Production Designer Claire E Robertson @clairerobertsonart Editors Deanna Milligan + Ramsey Fendall @sublunarfilms Associate Producers Margaret Sclafani + Abby Wang @razzmargo First Assistant Director Sonya Chwyl @sonyachwyl Second Assistant Director Anik Desmarais-Spencer @adspencer_ First Assistant Director (SaltSpring) Jesi Pearce Art Director Emma Banner @emamary88 Set Decorators Kris Banner + Samantha Harvey Set Dresser Rob Robertson @robr.yeti Camera Operator/Steadicam Guochen Wang @guochew 1st AC Aly Van Akker @alyvana 1st AC (SaltSpring) Jo Gaffney @jo.gaffney 2nd AC Andrew Dodd Clippingdale @doddseye Digital Imaging Technician Ben LaBarre @bmovieben Script Supervisor Amelia McCluskey @ameliamcclux Production Sound Patrick Coble + Bobby Cleveland @patrickcoble @crail_skatan Boom Operator Bobby Cleveland @crail_skatan Second Boom (Salt Spring) Cameron Proudfoot @proudfoot1975 Gaffer Karl Schoepp @schoeppfilm Key Grip Chris Akehurst Special Effects Supervisor David Springbett Props Claire E Robertson + Phil McCluskey + Ruby Lipsett @philmc Assistant Costume Designer Lily McCluskey @lobster.soul Costume Supervisor Beth Parker @bethrparker Costumer Christie Roome @christieroome Makeup Artist Ruby Jones @rubysfx Hair Stylist Mo Crété @hair.mocrete Hair Stylist (SaltSpring) Casey Troop Casting Director Lynne Carrow @lcarrow99 BTS Photos Michael Levy + Andrew Dodd Clippingdale + Bobby Cleveland @doddseye @crail_skatan Publicity Photographs Beth Parker + Danielle Acken @bethrparker @dlackenphotos Production Assistant Kahlila Ball + Yuxin Mao @kahlila.b Slime dance song “Black Sea” by Kellarissa courtesy of Mint Records @oceanelectro Sound Mix Kirk Douglas @kirkairdouglas Craft Services Lisah Smith + Jan Robertson + Darcy Graham @lisahloo @darcy_bishop_graham Colorist Sam Gilling @sgllng

Thank You Peggy Milligan + Rob Pingle + Lisa Alice Bailey + Hilary Watson + Melissa Cutshall + Jen MacLellan + Bob Twaits + Jason Stevens + Andrew Robertson + Paul Lloyd + Dawn Boudreau + Christie Roome + Rachel Irons + Dax Stringer + Fletcher Donovan + Jason Donaldson + Heather Hopkins + Patrick McCallum + David Corbet + Sandra Charge + Dave French + Annika Hagen + Carrie Oloriz + Julia Hutchings + Mearo + Emily Gooden + Melanie Mulherin + Diana Day + Patrick Ramsey + Kirk Irwin + Linnea Ritland + Veronika Kurz +Martin Tran + David Geiss + Daniel Carruthers + Julie MacKinnon + Sandra Smith

Special Thanks Victoria College of Art & Michel Matil Twig & Buoy Sparkle Bright Laundrette Country Grocer, Salt Spring Island Hey Happy Coffee Old Victoria Water Company Nick Orchard Ryan Dyck + Adrienne LaBelle, Mint Records Natasha Duprey Peter Foreman Danielle Acken & James Acken

Camera Red Gemini + Arri 435 4-perf Cooke 20-100 + Lomo standard speed lenses Shot on Kodak 5219 + 5298 @kodak_shootfilm

[mannytoodope]

Stringer: I wanted you to choose somewhere safe for us to speak. damn...only bugs in this place gonna have legs. Now, I appreciate smart...but you gotta know in this game, man, it ain't enough. You a student of history? You know this town had its share of smart players, man Melvin, Little Wil, Big Head Brother, Peanut, Warren. All real smart, man, real smart. But you know, soon as their names rang out...the feds was on them. You know what I mean? Government ain't want you to be organized. No, they want you...scrimping and scraping, killing each other on the corner on some bullshit. Not me. That's why me and Prop Joe, we get ready to put this co-op together. Different crews, one package. Best dope, best coke.Share and share-alike. Marlo: Been hearing about that. Stringer: You been hearing about that? That's good. That's a start, right? You know that Mercedes you got riding out there, man...you got that titled in your aunt's name or somethin’ Now, when they come to get you, that straw purchase out there...gonna come bite you in the ass, boy. That's what they do. They turn your money against you. Now, you, I'm thinking with the corners that you got...you close to $1 mil, right? Marlo: I'm doing all right. Stringer: You doing all right, but all right ain't got your name on a crib, right? Ain't got you a little spot for you to wash that dirty money. Marlo: Yeah Stringer: That's what I'm offering you, man.

[katrinelillianwarren]

First time

13.05.2068 S:  Come vuole la regola della ronda, apre la porta ad ogni aula in disuso, e se quella nella quale è nascosta la Warren non è incantata con qualcosa in particolare, verrebbe aperta ed illuminata dal lumos della bacchetta così come tutte le altre. Fletterebbe le sopracciglia, nel caso, arricciando le labbra e scrutandola. « Esiste il dormitorio, sai? » attendendo sull`uscio. K: Se ne sta tranquilla davvero, non dà fastidio a nessuno e se non fosse per il lumos che la illumina continuerebbe ad esserlo.Sobbalza mettendo la mano destra davanti il viso a coprire lo sguardo ormai abituato al buio. «Non...» pausa, con calma formula la frase..«vedermi così da lei.» si lascia andare in un HITCH! soffocato dalla mancina che si posa davanti alla bocca, una pausa e torna a parlare più convinta «Non posso farmi vedere così da Mel.» ora ha tutto più senso «chiudi, non se ne accorgerà..» pausa. HITCH «ness..». Allunga le gambe e fortunatamente la bottiglia e dietro di lei, anche se dalle risposte Sebastian potrebbe tranquillamente capire di cosa stiamo parlando. S: Più preoccupato, prende a scrutarla. Arriccia le labbra, restando con gli occhi puntati su di lei e quel sopracciglio perennemente incurvato verso l`alto. Lascia che la porta rimanga aperta, dato che non fa altro che andarle in contro e provare ad avvolgerle il busto con le sue braccia. La verità è anche che dato quel comportamento sospetto, voglia capire se puzzi d`alcool o no. E in effetti è così; lui che oramai è esperto di queste cose. « Cosa mi combini, Katrine? » considerando che l`ultima volta sono arrivati agli insulti. Proverebbe a caricarsela sulle spalle, totalmente contrariato, certo, facendo fatica e premendo sulla sua stessa forza. « Ti porto in infermeria. » Proverebbe ad incamminarsi fuori dall`aula con lei sulle spalle - se fosse riuscito ad afferrarla. K: Lui le si avvicina ed è la catastrofe.. «..uhmm..» dice come se stesse pensando «profumi di buono» la mano andrebbe a tirarlo con il collo sotto il suo naso per annusarlo meglio « profumi di buono..» ripeterebbe per poi rispondere alla prima domanda con un alzatina di spalle, «se te ne offro un pò ti corrompo?!» aria ingenua e scuotendo le spalle a non farsi prendere «no, ci sono stata l`altro giorno, ne farebbero una tragedia» e giù a grifolagnarsi «Ti do la bottiglietta..ma..ma ..lasciami qui, ti prego, faccio nanna e poi torno a dormire, non portarmi in infermeria ti preeegoo» e ad unire le manine sperando di non farsi prendere e nel caso muoversi un pò per non farsi afferrare da lui «prometto che non do fastidio e ti do la bottiglia..ti do anche quella di scorta.. ma per favore non farmi stare li con chi mi guarda e giudica..» e andrebbe a pregarlo quasi.

S: Non riesce a prenderla e a caricarsela addosso, dato che lei comincia a muoversi esageratamente e a pregarlo di lasciarla andare. Deglutisce, poi flette appena un sopracciglio. Rimane con gli occhi puntati su di lei, ma nel mentre ragiona ad un modo per imbrogliarla - unicamente per il suo bene. Il suo è un silenzio sistematico che mantiene per tutto quel suo parlato. La verità è che il più delle volte neanche le risponde. No, piuttosto lascia che lei lo tiri per il colletto ed annusi il suo profumo. E lui non sa di per certo di buono. « ti so di buono? » domanda per ulteriori conferme, restandole vicino. « Mi dai tutte le tue boccette se ti lascio qui? » domanda ancora ed ancora, volendo arrivare senz`altro ad un secondo fine. Oh, povera vita.

K: Sorride, si morde il labbro inferiore « Si, sai di buono..» - «Tutte??» domanda un pò sconsolata abbassando le spalle, «ooooook» andrebbe a prendere lo zaino e lasciarlo a lui, il quale dentro ne troverebbe di certo tre piene e due vuote, che poi con quella aperta sarebbero sei in totale.«Ecco..» e giù a fare labbrino intenerirlo. E prima di lasciargli quella aperta andrebbe a cercare di berne un ultimo sorso, per poi lasciargliela «Sono tutte..» direbbe guardandolo negli occhi «Sai sempre di buono, anche se sei un buono a metà..» frasi sconnesse e senza senso «Devi continuare la ronda?!»  domanderebbe ancora per poi battere la mano sul banco in segno a lui di sedersi su di esso «compagnia?!»

S: Arriccia le labbra, poi scrolla le spalle. Le si siede accanto. « un buono a metà? » lo sa di non essere una brava persona, ma il fatto che lo dica quella che si spaccia per sua migliore amica, quasi sorella, lo butta ancora più giù. Alterna il suo sguardo tra avanti e la tassorosso stessa, prima di avvolgere il suo collo con il suo braccio, in quella stretta, stringendola a sé ed avvicinandola. « tutto il tempo che vuoi. » i due sconsolati parte una.

« maa quello scimmione di Adam? »

K: « mi ha lasciata..» pausa «di nuovo..» fà spallucce «con un biglietto» biglietto che il ragazzo dovrebbe avere ricevuto almeno in copia, ma Kat è troppo ubriaca per ricordarselo o ricordarsi qualsiasi cosa «se bevo fà meno male..» ammette tornando a nascondere il viso contro il petto del settimino.

S: Un`occhiata seccata verso l`alto, poi gli occhi che scivolano su futili dettagli per pensare ad altro. « Se ti ha mollata potresti fargliela pagare ... fargli capire cosa si è perso. » annuisce, mentre muove la sua mano sul suo capo - sempre che lei glielo permetta, chiaro. Arriccia le labbra. « Non stavate bene insieme .. non mi è mai piaciuto. » nonostante ben nessuno gli abbia chiesto un parere o un suggerimento.

K: Tipo che ormai è andata del tutto,rimane ferma li mentre lui parla e poi lui le "accarezza"la testa, «Io non sono brava a fare i dispetti..» boccuccia piccola mentre alza la testa a trovarsi davanti a Seb «Non voglio più parlare di lui» dice poi con vocina da bambina «mi fà male..». Dolcemente andrebbe a dargli un bacio sulla guancia «grazie..» - «di esserci» tenera lei, ubriaca ma tenera come sempre,il viso non si muoverebbe subito ma le mani andrebbero a stringerlo in un abbraccio per poi posare il viso sulla spalla di lui per respirare il suo profumo.«grazie..» ripeterebbe praticamente con le labbra appiccicate alla gola del settimino.

S: Lascia che faccia qualsiasi cosa con lui, mentre continua sempre ad accarezzarla con quei movimenti lenti della mano sul capo. Le sorride con dolcezza, con gli occhi leggermente socchiusi ed il capo alle volte che si abbandona sopra al suo, forse per la stanchezza. Lascia che questa lo abbracci, dopo avergli chiesto di non parlare più di Adam, la quale risposta arriva semplicemente con un vago annuire del capo. Sì, diciamo che sa in prima persona cosa significa non parlare di `quella` persona. Si lascia stringere e lascia che lei posi il capo sul suo collo. Eppure non si preoccupa più di tanto per quella posa. « Non devi neanche ringraziarmi, Katrine. Ci siamo sempre, no? L`uno per l`altra. è il minimo, questo. » parlando piano e sottovoce.

K: Alza leggermente il capo sino ad arrivare con le iridi dritte su quelle di lui «Always» andrebbe a ripeterlo guardandolo negli occhi, quasi a dargli la sicurezza che quello che dice, lo dice col cuore, che quell`always ci sarà sempre, improvvisamente scatta in avanti e gli piazza un bacio a stampo, sempre che lui non la scansi via ovvio.Un gesto rapido quasi impercettibile,rimane a guardarlo mentre con la mano gli accarezza il viso, con una dolcezza che pare non appartenere più a Katrine. Un sorriso lieve, non si rende conto di quello che a fatto. [...] Seb è il suo migliore amico, poi sopratutto visto che la fanciulla è così tranquilla e scarsa di ormoni, possiamo stare tranquilli, finché lui non la ribacia, le mani di lui tra i capelli di lei,il labbro inferiore viene morso poco prima che lui si possa avvicinare per baciarla; e no, quello che segue non è lo stesso bacio di prima, non è un bacio a stampo, superficiale e senza passione o senza ormoni.Una mano andrebbe a tenere la testa di lui, mentre l'altra si fermerebbe sul petto di lui a ricambiare quel bacio, a toccare e assaporare quelle labbra che già una volta ha gustato in quel modo. Ci sono Seb e Kat, Kat e Seb, e lei non si sta tirando indietro, non sta pensando, ha la mente sgombra e quel vuoto da a lui la possibilità di baciarla come Merlino comanda, il busto si andrebbe ad avvicinare per diminuire la distanza tra loro,mentre ormai è praticamente quasi sdraiata su di lui, scomoda?! provate a sdraiarvi su Sebastian Waleystock, poi mi dite voi cos'è comodo o no..

« hai paura? »

«un po’..»

« Non devi avere paura se ci sono io. »

«mi fido»

[a-dd-i-c-t-ed]

let go

hey again it’s me. i am addicted to xmen at the moment so i wrote somethin with Warren. probably a lot of grammar mistake (not my first language and almost 2am here in the morning) and just a trash but i’m just learning doin for myself im sorry. warnings: agnst, death, violance so here it is.

It was cold. I didn’t feel anything. I blinked weakly and thought about what actually happened.

~

I was sitting on Professor Xavier class taking notes about what he was talk about and thinking. I missed him. I missed him bad to be honest. When we were children we lived in the forest alone. We were only together kinda connected. Always felt what happened when we were apart.

But they took him away. 2 years ago happened. We slept together when they came. Took him and never heard from him since that time.

Charles Xavier school was good. They were kind and I met with a lot of person like me. I had everything but him. That was my problem.

It was an easy day like usually. Classes and after I went to garden. I never really found any friend here. They tried but I just couldn’t let anyone in.

I had my powers to lock out Charles and Jean from my head. They couldn’t see my thoughts. I had my power to fly and lasers in my hands.

I was with Jean and Scott most of the time. They talked all the time lookin at me like a friend even if I was introvelt to talk too much. 

~

My mind took small movies about us.

“Warren please stop” laughed loudly. He just didn’t stop tickiling me. “I’m about to use my powers on you”

“Oh darling are you threating me right now?” He give me small kisses on my neck made me moans quietly. “ I should punish you more then I guess...” whisperd to my ears. I got goosebumps my heart beats faster. Looked right into his eyes.

“Maybe I want you to punish me more” bite my lips playfully.

“I will darling I will” Warren kissed me passionately his wings went wide open fly up with me. My legs went around his hips kissed him like all the time. Like never before. Always.

Smiled a bit. Changed a lot after that. I didn’t really talk anyone. Maybe because I felt save with him and give me more powers to not scared from ‘normal’ people. He was always strong. When his father took him out when someone tried to kill him he never got scared. He stand up and fight until his last breath or knock them out.

But on that night he was scared.

“Yn wake up!” My eyes went wide open I had heavy breath

“What happend?!”

“They find us” I heard someone kick the door open and shouting. My body shaked and I didn’t know what to do. I freezed.

“Come on Yn we need to escape!”  He grabbed my hand and tried to fly away but then someone shot.

“You can’t escape you freaks!” It was a man who spoke Warren was bleeding.

“No you can’t hurt him!” Lasers through my hands went wild I screamed and attacted them then take Warren outside.

“Is it hurt? It is that bad? Are you okay? Please say something!” My voice was shaking tears falled down on my face.

“I’m okay Darling” he wishperd with a small smile.

“No! Don’t lie to me! We need to get away from here please!” I cried out with my panic attack. No this is can’t happening! Then I heard other voices from everywhere.

“Come on please we need to fly! I help you!”

“You can’t take me with you..”

“SHUT THE HELL UP WARREN WE ARE GOING TO ESCAPE” shouted my angst was stringer than me.

“I hold them up and you can go Yn” he stood up “we don’t have much time Yn”

“No” shaked my head more tears came.

“It’s okay... Just remember I love you. Everything is gonna be alright.”

“No.. please.”

“I love you. I need you to be safe” he had a weak smile. “It’s okay” no it wasn’t.

“They are here!” Again them the hunters.

“Go Yn!” He didn’t give me a chance to say something he flew up in the sky “here I am bastards catch me if you can!” He shouted and went the oppositoned way then me.

The guns shooting was loud I flew up after him.

“Yn go away!” He looked back deep in his eyes I could see that fear. Even he didn’t showed me.

“But Warren..”

“Go! Now!” Bite my bittom lips to not cry to loud and flew all my powers needed to be fast.

Then I heard they shoot him down.

“Go Yn it’s okay!” Heard him. Last time.

I was flying for hours. Cried with closed eyes.

I was so tired. I felt pain all over my body. The windo cut me I was bleeding. My eyes opened but I couldn’t see.

Then everything was black.

~~~

I felt my body shaking in fearness and sweatness. I was awake but I couldn’t open my eyes.

“Yn I’m here! Let me in whats happening?” Charles voice was like a miles away from me. I wanted to speak but I couldn’t. “Open you mind! I won’t hurt you I promise!” I felt my tears but I tried. I felt him in my head.

It was Warren. He was alive. He was different.

“I... need... to... save... him” whisperd haevy it was hard. I couldn’t came out of this dream.

“Yn I need you to wake up first.”

“Trying..”

“Breath...” I did. “Breath slowly do it for him.”

“I can’t” i felt weak and cried. I could speak but I couldn’t open my eyes. I just saw him and he was different like he didn’t even remember me.

“I need you to focus on yourself first! We will go there! He will remember you! Just need you to open your eyes Yn!” Charles voice closer then before. I felt my hands went out of my control lasers came out. “YN OPEN YOU EYES YOU ARE GOING TO KILL SOMEONE!”

“GET OUT OF MY HEAD!” I screamed sitting up with opened eyes jump out of the bad. “ I need to save him!” Grabbing my clothes madly.

“We will just calm down please!” Everyone was awake watching me at the door but I didn’t care.

“I NEED TO SAVE HIM CHARLES I CAN’T JUST CALM DOWN” shouted in agressive mood.

“Everyone get out of my room!” Looked the others they ran away without a word.

“I go with you.” Jean stayed.

“Me too.” Scott too.

“Okay Hank and me as well.” Charles looked at me.

It was a horrible place. Bed people shouted taked many for the winner.

They had guns.

With Jeans power they couldn’t see us. We stand in front of the cage.

One man was on the floor in blood I couldn’t see who did this to him.

But then I saw the wings.

“Warren..” whisperd in shock. “I need to get in” they tried to stop me but couldn’t someone already grabbed my hand but I attacked him with my power.

“It’s a freaks! That little kid drop her to the cage!” There was too many person to fight they hit me in the face and dropped in.

“Warren..” I stood up looked up at him cleaned my face from blood.

“Who the fuck is Warren!?” He was agressive. He had a lot of gash from fights.

But didn’t let me finish he attacked me. I flew up to block it. He tried but I didn’t fight back.

“Fight or they kill us!” Shouted at me but I couldn’t.

“They won’t hurt anyone I’m here.” Heard Charles voice in my head.

“Warren please! It’s me Yn” tried again. The people around us went outside without a word. He didn’t understand.

“Angel darling. Don’t make me angrier!” He flew and grabbed my arms stronger. He’s green eyes had no emotions.

“Warren remember the treehouse! Us! Your dad and everyone!” Whisperd silently.

“I don’t know what you think I am but I’m just going to kill you” shouted. Scott tried to open the cage in this time but he couldn’t even Jean. Charles was taking care the other people and Hank was looking after Charles if anything would happened there.

I was alone with him.

“Warren Worthington. Your father kicked you out when he found about wings. We meet in the woods first”

“Shut up!” He was grabbing my neck strong I couldn’t breath but I didn’t mind.

“We made out house there. Away from everyone.”

“You lying!” He punch me in the stomach with all his power. I fell down on the floor. Then hit me on the face. Everywhere he could. “ Stop speaking you piece of shit!” I wasn’t able to use any of my power. It hurt. He hitted my chest I felt my bones broke but nothing came out of me just blood.

“I CAN’T OPEN THE CAGE HE’S GOING TO KILL YN!” I heard Scott and Jean but I was see is him.

I put my arm on his face. He breaked it i screamed in pain.

“It hurt Warren please stop” cried out again. I felt like a baby who couldn’t do anything but crying.

“Still Angel.” He didn’t show any emotions.

“It’s okay. Just remember I love you. Everything is gonna be alright.” Sighed weakly wishper but I felt something sharp in my body.

“YN NO” I heard voices all around me but I didn’t feel any pain anymore.

“YN..” winked at Warren.

“Warren hey..” whisperd.

“Oh no.. what did I do?!” Winked more it was hard I felt sleepy.

“It doesn’t hurt. It’s okay. You are here. Agan. With me.” I smiled lazy. He put me on his lap.

“No.. help! PLEASE” he shouted but they couldn’t help. My bleed was all over me Jean cried Scott tried his best to not cried.

“It’s okay Warren. I’m going to be fine. I need to rest and sleep.” Whisperd eith closed eyes.

“No YN how could i dod this to you?! No please...”

“At least do you remember now?”

“Everything. Some mutant used his power to my memorie to not fight back. I just can’t.. I can’t lose you again YN.. I’m so sorry I didn’t know what I am doing please forgive me”

“It’s okay.” I put my hands on his face. Coughed blood but still didn’t feel anything. “I got you back in the end. Thats what matter.

“Hang on YN we got you!” Heard Charles nervous voice.

“It’s okay Professor Xavier. I am fine.” Murmured silently.

“YN no. I love you.. I need you.. I want to live rest of my life with you with kids and everything you can’t sleep!”

“Warren Worthington promise me one god damn thing. You never give up. No matter what no matter how hard just don’t. You are the love of my life” I felt pain suddenly tears fall down on my cheeks I was scared so scared. But once in my life I didn’t show anything of it. “You always will be the one but not in this life.” As I saw some light I was smiling. Around he’s face I saw my family waving to me. “I’m going to my family. They are waiting. I can see mommy and daddy.

“YN.. don’t leave I need you.”

“Just promise me you don’t let then control you. Don’t let the sadness in. Remember where we were before they came. We were happy. All thise beatiful memories like when we talking watching the stars and sleep and fly. Laughing on everything. Remember that not this moment. You didn’t hurt me at all in the end. You save me. And I am going to be thankful for this and all. Charles won’t hurt you. No one will.” Smiled. He cried kissed my forehead hugged me more closer to himself.

Then I saw just light. I was able to stand up and walk in it without looking back. I missed my family. Everyone.

But one look went back to him before it was all black.

[fantastic-nonsense]

Final Opinions on the 1st Democratic Debate

On a political level, the big winners of the first round were:

Warren: she started out strong and was consistent with her 'I've got a plan for that' but was quiet towards the end. She did what she came out to do: come out, discuss her ideas and policy positions, and stay above the fray. The first night’s debate was Professor Warren and her grad students, and that's exactly what she needed to float her to the next round.

Castro: his debate prep team is not being paid nearly enough for how good they made him look. He came prepared and it shows. Whether he will continue to impress is a different question, but he definitely stole some limelight for himself.

Booker: he came out swinging and just went for it, and it absolutely worked to his advantage.

Harris: she consistently killed it all night, stayed on theme, and had at least three soundbite zingers. She's pretty much guaranteed a spot in the Final Four at this point.

Buttigieg: he showed up poised, calm, collected, and thoughtful, had solid policy ideas and solutions, and had what was probably the single most honest and direct answer I have heard over the entirety of the debates so far. He's going to get a lot of mileage out of that persona (and also his statement concerning religion and politics). I personally think he’s running about 5-10 years too early for the campaign he wants to run, but we’ll see where he goes from here.

Biden is definitely hanging in there, but Harris drove a real spike into his wheel. One more one-shot KO like that and he’s going to have some serious problems. Defending states' rights to segregate schools to a black woman on national television, especially in 2019, is not a good look.

Sanders is also hanging in there, though he just like...inexplicably tanked his chances of gaining any new voters by doing so poorly on the debate stage. Unless he shapes up quick, he's also gone. He's not the only progressive on the stage anymore, and it shows.

On the second stringers:

Gillibrand and Klobuchar are doing okay but could be doing much better. I think they'll be better off once the field narrows and don't feel like they have to jockey as much for the time to speak.

De Blasio was a surprisingly competent and strong voice on the stage, though I'm not sure how much of that was genuine and how much of it was "standard New York politician bullshitting his way to the top for 2 hours."

Hickenlooper sounds more like a Reasonable Republican than a 2019-era Democrat; that might help or hurt him depending on what he does with that image. He had his zinger with the "where I'm from that's called kidnapping" line, and it'll boost him if that gets any traction; he needs some substantive policy solutions and a couple more zingers if he wants to make it.

Gabbard was granted a grace period for that absolute slam dunk over Tim Ryan on the Taliban/Al Qaeda issue (because your five seconds of internet meme fame is still fame and is thus helpful for ratings), but she's going to have to talk about something other than her status as a veteran if she wants to break out from the bottom-middle of the pack.

Everyone else:

Can I tell the "Delaney, Ryan, and Swalwell drop the fuck out challenge" joke already? Because they need to get with the program and drop out before they start damaging everyone else.

Yang is a one-trick pony with the UBI/automation stuff and was absolutely not prepared for prime time. He completely bumbled and got bogged down in technical terminology during his (very few) minutes of mic time, to his detriment. He's out of his element (which is long-format one-on-one interviews) and it shows.

Inslee had some good ideas and some good moments, but he largely just didn't have any "shine time," and with a candidate field this large that's basically a kill shot in and of itself. He needed a media moment, and instead he's largely forgettable.

I literally can’t understand anything Bennet said besides “socialism is bad.” I’m going to actually have to go hunt down the transcript for this debate because he was rambly and incoherent.

Beto looked positively gray; I think he’s realizing that he is a high school-level debater trying to be on the same stage as post-grads. Being a House Rep for three terms and failing to win a Senate race is bad preparation for the presidential debate stage, but this whole endeavor might give him enough of a media boost to go after Cornyn in the Texas Senate race next year (if he drops out early enough).

Special shoutout to Marianne Williamson for being such an absolute nutcase (and thus an absolutely delightful mess) to watch.

Right now, I think my Top 5 candidates are Warren, Harris, Buttigieg, Booker, and Castro. Warren was my early favorite, and no one has really done anything to persuade me off of her yet. I think at the present moment I'm gunning for a Warren/Buttigieg ticket with Harris as AG, Gabbard as SecDefense or head of the Dept. of Veterans Affairs, and Booker and Castro taking domestically-focused cabinet positions (maybe Labor and HHS?). It's very early days though, and so many things can change between now and the day I go to the polls.

One good thing I will say is that it's incredible how many good candidates there are. I have my favorites, but apart from the scrappers at the bottom of the pack (and imo Biden, but that's a personal opinion) there aren't any truly bad candidates to be had this go around. It honestly feels like all of the serious candidates are really just auditioning for their place in the 2020 cabinet and one lucky winner will get to be president instead of a cabinet member, which is such an incredibly freeing breath of fresh air from the nonsense of the past 3-4 years.

[twitchesandstitches]

Ranamon Redemption

(Warning, this one gets PRETTY long!)

Another day had come; another conquest, another loot, and it all felt pretty much the same to Ranamon.

A down rose on Treasure Planet, light blooming across cities of actual gold. Not gold colored or gold-plated, but buildings made of actual gold. Windows sparkled, the glass perfect prisms of diamond and sapphire, the streets shimmered in complex netways like liquid chocolate, and turn your gaze far enough past islands that seemed to be huge chunks of looted land masses coated in sparkly things, and you might see that the seas glittered, with an effect similar to what happened if you scattered a number of prisms over a lit flashlight. Hard to say what they were made of, but it was probably very expensive.

In orbit there hang a vast ship, several miles long and bristling with armaments, enough multi-directional engines to make it ludicrously mobile, and all shaped in a fashion to look both dangerous and very aerodynamic. Mostly it just looked cool; so awesome that it was in peril of slipping around from being too cool to stay still in one spot for long. You’d have expected any of the thousands of people present as essential personnel to all have sunglasses and disdainful expressions at the world below. Many other ships like it, though far smaller (ranging from battlecruisers to city-wrecking destroyers to glorified barges meant to just hold loot on their way back from their adventures) floated around, or were being polished back to perfect and getting the gemstone luster plated on again.

Around the artificial planet, every single inch whispered of enormous wealth, luxury, and the fame of having a world so fabulous. The very continents were made from the loot of a thousand worlds (or so it was said, mostly by Vriska Serket herself). The sea, something like distilled wine rendered into a biologically appropriate substitute for water, sold for hundreds a dollars a bottle on the very finest of worlds. And that wasn’t even anything to do with the massive stores of loot occupying the center of the planet itself, like tribute to the mighty Fountain of Conquest at the core, radiating its power to every world within the reach of the Cobalt Stingers, so that everyone knew their name and power…

To the digital being presently encapsulated in material-space via a small and very wobbly robot that managed to resemble her true form by coincidence, it had rather lost its luster a long time ago. The extremely wide hips of the robotic avatar swayed, almost drunkenly, as she stared at the ground, thinking hard. She found it hard to walk and think at the same time. She had spent a very long time - but had it been? she wondered. Maybe she’d only been herself for a few years. Maybe much longer than she thought, all the same. How did you really, in your code, KNOW? But however it might be counted, she hadn’t needed to be introspective for much of it.

She was Ranamon. Some time ago, the fleet of adventurers, rogues, scoundrels and mercenaries she had joined had found themselves, along with their rivals in a nomadic group of hedonistic mutants and outcasts, stumbling into the discovery of another plane of reality made from the flow of information. Everything had a shape and a form somewhere, and the concept of data, the existence of it on a server or through the networks between stars, made life. Her own people called this world, their world, the Digital Realm. They were the digital denizens of it, the digimon, and she was among the mightiest of them all, bearing the power of a long-passed heroine and command over the seas.

Join me, had said Vriska Serket then. The glamorous leader of the pirates, the Cobalt Stingers. It had been a threat, an invitation, and an offer all at once, and Ranamon had been intoxicated by the thought of something new.

I’ve seen so many things, she thought glumly as she walked past a gaggle of serfs polishing the walls and bowing low to anyone who came near on pure automatic reflex. Stars getting up and walking away. Monsters rising out of the dark and screaming at what they found there. Giant robots with great big bouncy boobs!

She tried hard not to think about the next thought coming her way, the dreadful taste of it.

It wasn’t boredom. She could handle boredom, and with the Stingers, you could never stay bored for long.

She fled from the thought, and her flight eventually brought her far from the serfs, all the way to a random bar in one of the underground cities, clinging in the warrens like a chamber of a castle beneath the world. And it shouldn’t be possible for a digimon to get drunk in the physical world, especially not in a robotic avatar, but she fancied giving it a try anyways.

“Listen here,” she said irritably at some point, and the image of those serfs bowing stuck in her mind, itching like a bad wound. “Okay, listen here, just listen. Right!?”

“Right,” said one of the Decepticon racers that hung around Admiral Serket’s favorite doctor. The Stunticons. This one was… Motormaster, a big and tough truck-type femcon with a curvaceous figure that had been carefully engineered to be big and strong. She was regarding Ranamon’s robot avatar with a disdainful air.

“Yeah. So.” Ranamon dimly noted a woman in the background, just barely visible. Blue skin, purple hair, an extremely curvaceous body on par with any of those weird moms from the rival fleet��� but none of that stood out on this fleet, either. Ranamon was having a hard time thinking about something besides the weird feeling she was trying to articulate, and she kept flashing back to those serfs. Bowing not out of respect, or fear, but just because she was there, as indifferently as breathing.

Were the serfs mind-controlled? Did Admiral Serket have them chained to her will and set them loose like automatons? Were they free in their own mind but not their wills, raised to slavishly adore their lords in the Stingers to the lowest gunner and boarder? Ranamon had no idea and it got her really going.

“Okay, seriously.” Motormaster raised a hand, and she waved it indifferently. “Who cares how the serfs feel? They’re serfs!”

Ranamon held a finger up in protest. She paused. “Shoot. Did I say that whole thing out loud?”

“Yep.”

Her finger lowered. “Oh, okay.” She paused again. “I had. I had. I had. I had a point! I don’t… what was my point again?”

An elf in the crowd raised a hand. “Was it that you’re gonna pay for happy hour?”

“Nuh uh!”

“I HAVE LOST INTEREST.”

Ranamon groaned. “Ugh. Just a few hours ago I was dumping a few tons of interstellar currency into the vaults and, and. Ugh. What is even the point of it all?”

“What’s the point?” Motormaster leaned in, looming over her. Metal breasts, soft like flesh and tough as shields, hovered menacingly beyond Ranamon with a sense of weight, larger than cars. “You were in on a huge score! You’re famous! Rich!”

“Yeah,” Ranamon said. “Rich. Famous. That kind of thing.”

Motormaster leaned back again, seemingly satisfied. “What more do you need?”

Ranamon staggered up. “Don’t know,” she said, staggering up and walking away gloomily. “Don’t know anything anymore…”

The bar watched her go for a moment, and after it became clear that nothing more interesting than her oversized breasts briefly getting her stock in the doorway was going to happen, they went back to concentrating on their revelry.

Only the blue woman Ranamon had seen wasn’t concerned with her drink, but instead got up and quietly left, sashaying only a little bit out of sheer habit.

And it would be nice to say that, at this point, Ranamon’s life changed forever.

A chance meeting with a stranger, perhaps. A conversation that opened her eyes to her own doubts, her misgivings. And from there, a better path to take. Leaving the Stringers and using her wealth for a better means, or repaying the damage she had caused-

But no. Life doesn’t really work like that.

Even in a universe of magic, where the laws of physics were so loose that they were constantly slipping away, there were stronger considerations and nothing was that easy, nor free. Guilt is a hard thing to face up to when everyone around you won’t acknowledge such a thing. Society bounces people around, and normality, shame, morals; those are all reinforced by what bounces from one person to another. And in the Cobalts, self-indulgence and satisfaction was the only real importance.

And so, more than a year passed for Ranamon to contemplate these matters. She retreated from active duty aboard pirate-y affairs, declining offers for raids or archeological missions, and she’d done enough that she was allowed to hang back and enjoy the fruits of her efforts. Eventually she’d run out and had to return to work, but that would take many years before she ran out of the goodwill she had earned.

A year, mostly of getting wildly drunk on data-records of being blissfully out of it (Digimon handle substances very differently, dear Reader), and doing her best not to think about anything much lately. Sinking deeper and deeper, ruminating more intently on the problems she was starting to notice, and all the while, the blue woman… observed. Like a spider on the wall.

A year of losing all interest in anything that had once mattered to her. None of it satisfied. People were already getting used to her public rants about how fame didn’t matter, not if those prophecies like the Lapis Lazuli Visions were true about something coming. That all the wealth in the world just didn’t feel fun anymore.

She didn’t know how to admit she wasn't happy anymore, and she didn’t know why. And in the fashion typical of the Cobalt Stingers, she dealt with it by getting even more wrapped up in basic pleasures to block out the bad thoughts.

At some point, she wasn’t aware of having left her private manor near the surface, right next to the network channels in… she didn’t even know anymore. Weeks? Months? She didn’t remember anything. Just… a yawning sense of awful.

There came a knock at the door.

Awkwardly, Ranamon came to the door in a makeshift body; a slender robotic model that felt so wrong to wear, too thin in all the wrong places, and too tall, it just didn’t feel right one bit, but she wasn’t in the mood to bother with it.

A vaguely familiar human woman, her skin blue, looked down at her. Ranamon was vaguely surprised to see eight eyes, spider-like, set into her face, and several additional sets of arms (cybernetic, from the seams, but very sleek), and at this point it occurred to her that it was very hard to see anything of her face past those massive breasts jutting out.

“You are slimmer than I expected you to wear,” the woman said curtly, her voice accented with… Ranamon took a moment to place it, synching up with the local computers and taking much too long, a few microseconds, for shame, to recognize it as a sign of one of the languages of the Gaulic language family. Descended from human… French, she guessed.

“And you are goddamn stacked and I hate you for reminding me,” Ranamon groused. “Are you the data lady?”

“No. I am not. May I come in?”

Ranamon considered. “No.” She shut the door.

The woman outside stared at the door for a moment. “Hrm,” she said, and sidled around the edge of the manor. She found a window, putting all her hands to it, and began to climb straight up it, exactly like a spider.

The manor was not hard to navigate. As she suspected, the owner of this place was not in a condition to move fast, and she prepared her game accordingly.

Ranamon took a long route to get back to a drinking room, and even so, she took a moment to recognize the blue woman sitting in a chair and sipping at a cup of fine wine. “What the heck!?”

“It’s not a bad vintage,” the woman observed. “I am not sure what you bother with actual wine, however. You can’t drink it, so I presume it is for friends. Not,” She added, “That you’ve had anyone here for some time.”

Ranamon gaped. She tried to work out something to say, in order of relevance: What are you doing in my house!? How did you get in here!? Who ARE you? Are you spying on me!? But what she actually managed to say was, “Does it taste okay?”

“I did say so, yes. But you have fine taste in wine.” She sipped the glass again. “Do forgive me. I didn't mean to make a wordplay joke.”

“...What joke…?”

“Never mind.” The woman stood up, draining the glass in a single swig, and put it away. “My name is Amelie Lacroix. And you are Ranamon; one of the digital beings that inhabits the data networks of the Stinger information servers across all their known worlds. Uploaded into a robotic body to interact with this world as a whole.”

Ranamon blinked. “Okay…?”

“And you first achieved consciousness in a weather analysis system,” Lacroix said, speaking flatly and without interest, and Ranamon did look up at that.

“Wait, what?” Ranamon stared. “How do you know about-”

“Rather,” Lacroix went on. “ You were that system, given further definition by taking in the power of an ancient heroine.”

“I didn’t! I mean, I didn’t mean to, I mean… how do you know that!?”

“You took her legacy,” Lacroix said, dispassionate.

For Ranamon, everything froze up. “I… I didn’t.”

Lacroix’s gaze was absolutely pitiless. “You were a thief in your very birth. And here you are, comfortable and wealthy, in theft.”

Ranamon instinctively rose up, the wind rattling in the bottles - just enough liquid to react to her powers - and then she thought What’s the point, She’s not wrong, and she stopped.

“Y’ain’t wrong,” she muttered, not looking at Lacroix. She sat down on the floor, too tired to argue. Not tired with thoughts like that, though she was well-acquainted with them. Just… fundamentally worn out in ways she was not prepared to deal with.

Lacroix did not tilt her head quizzically. She gave no indication of being surprised or… of anything really, but chilly and inhuman calmness.

“You regret it,” Lacroix said evenly, and at this, something like warmth came into her voice. It was… softer, perhaps. “I think that you have.”

“...Maybe,” Ranamon said guardedly. “Why do you care?”

“Perhaps someone should. And I think that you may well go a long way before you find someone here who is equipped to grasp why you no longer care for this life-”

‘Wait, how do you know I don’t like being like this anymore?”

“I’ve my sources, dear. Trust that.” Lacroix tapped her temple. “They are there when you dream and when you arose. They were there in the dark, and in the glimmering of the power that gave you shape. They know you, as they knew me.” She reached into a pocket of a long and elegant coat-

Cold numbness flew up Ranamon’s phantom back. She started to scoot back.

“”Don’t be afraid.” Lacroix withdraw a small card. She held it out. “It is only a way for you to… get into touch with my employers, we might say?”

Ranamon awkwardly took the card. It had only a simple number on it.

“Call this number, should you decide that you are truly done with this life,” Lacroix said, walking away towards a window, hands in her pockets.

She was gone. Ranamon scuttled over to the door, peeking out to see her, but there was not even the slightest glimpse of her. Only a single solitary purple spider, upon a leaf, staring straight at her. And then, even that was gone; Ranamon wondered if she had imagined it.

Ranamon was left alone, with a card that had a single number on it.

As she looked it at, a slogan appeared in slow, lovely writing: “For when you’re ready.”

Several weeks more passed.

There was a periodic sign of Amelie Lacroix amid the treasure planet, and Ranamon looked for her. She wasn’t sure why. Seeking more answers? Curiosity? Maybe even an accusation of something. Lacroix never returned her gaze, whether across the bar, at one of the dueling ranges, or from a distance of a dozen feet before one of the light bridges connected the decks of buildings measured stories hall, new catwalks and streets instead of gutters and the light bridges connecting them.

The sight of the light refracting through ten hundred bridges, mixing and refracting into something bright and beautiful, struck something in Ranamon. How long had it been… that she just appreciated something being beautiful?

She looked around at the world, of shining diamonds and gold and splendor, so beautiful and lovely that every second was rich… and now, as always her gaze was drawn to the groupies toiling away, smiling in a distant way.

If she stayed, was she any different from them? A servant to someone else that probably barely knew her name. The way she heard it, Admiral Serket had no idea who anyone else in the fleet was. That was left to administrators like Lusamine and Courtney of Team Aqua.

The phones called to her.

Well, she thought glumly to herself. Why not?

“It’ll just be to check out what they’re offering,” she said to herself, ringing up the number through her onboard phone systems. “I’m not committing to anything. I’m not serious about this… really…”

The phone was picked up immediately. “Come to the fast travel train station around the corner, beneath the hab complex,” a calm and tired voice said, with a Cybertronian synthetic twang to it. “A train will be waiting for you. Blue, with a large X upon it.”

“Wait,” Ranamon said. “What is this about-”

“Be there. You may depart, if you choose not to accept our offer, but you will have no memory of what you may see there. Please, do not dawdle.”

The phone hung up.

About fifteen minutes later, give or take a hurried chauffeuring to the train station in question, Ranamon slunk into the crowd of mingled groupies, pirates, brutes and technicians, all of whom wore some variety of the tight white clothes and pseudo-leathers preferred by the Cobalt elites, and Ranamon felt very exposed in her robot body. No one paid her any interest, though, suspiciously so. Especially as she cautiously approached a small train idling on the monorail, so streamlined as to be like a bullet, and strangely old; age radiated off it like a chill. And there was a large X upon it. Not an ominous kind, just a very discreet set of diagonal lines.

No one seemed to look directly at it. That was strange. Around here, you’d think people would zip straight toward anything novel or intriguingly new, even if it wound up being a catastrophically bad idea or was super suspicious.

As she approached, the doors of the train smoothly opened for her. She stepped inside, not entirely sure of what she was doing.

“Sit down, please,” the same voice from the phone said. She looked around, but saw no one. It was a single cab, of the modern kind that was totally automated, and there wasn’t a conductor that she could see. The voice came from all around, welling out from the train itself.

Ranamon, too off balance to reply, went to the nearest bench. A seat belt obligingly wound around her framework. The train started to go, and she definitely felt a sensation of movement.

This was the point that she no longer really had a frame of reference; the windows chose that moment to suddenly jerk, the view outside distorting like a tub of paints being thrown into a washing machine at full cycle.

The train accelerated, and fired forward far faster than should have been possible at all, and it was moving… sideways? No, down, up. Both, all of those, at the same time, and REALLY FAST, why did she feel like she was turning inside out-

No one saw the train leave, as no one had seen it enter. It was simply gone, though to the sole occupant, it was a much stranger experience.

There was a long moment, perhaps several hours worth of a single moment stretched out much longer than it was comfortable for even a digital entity, as Ranamon experienced dimensions of existence she really had not been programmed to comprehend or deal with in any respectable way. It felt weird, she had absolutely no idea what was going on, WHAT WAS HAPPENING-

“I’m gonna be sick, HELP, I FEEL SICK, MAKE IT STOP!” she wailed.

“Please do not be ill inside me,” the unseen voice said, sounding a bit curious at the prospect all the same. “Hold a moment… you are inside a platform. CAn you even BE ill?”

“Can we please table this discussion until after I stop being about to throw up!?”

“Certainly. We are here.”

And then, they stopped, with such a sudden jerk that it was almost as bad as going that fast to begin with.

Ranamon stumbled down out of the bench as the belt came away, and data streamed out from the little robot. Here, in a space very different from what she had just been in, her information flowed away from the robotic body she had been inhabiting, and it clattered to the ground, devoid of animating force, and then.

Her feet touched the ground. She wobbled, and that was a well-chosen word indeed, to a stop, too dazed to even realize what had happened. “Out!” She gasped, stumbling out the open doors, her legs moving without any dignity at all.

She fell onto her knees outside. Her first sign of something being off was the air, cold and brisk and full of a strange vitality but then… she wasn’t breathing at all. There was nothing to breath, no atmosphere, but the idea of breathing did it for her. Then she realized that she didn’t need to breath at all, so why was she experiencing that?

The third, and probably more strictly sensual one, as her breasts touching the ground. Her actual body! RAnamon looked down and squeaked as she saw not metal and clicky joints, but light green flesh, for the first time outside a computer! She squeaked, standing up as her massive breasts wobbled in front of her, almost toppling her over again. Slowly she placed her hands upon them. Her webbed hands, the blue organic armor of her true digital form right there. Her fingers made little indentations in her spheres, and she squeezed just for the novelty of it.

A bad idea. “Ow!” She whined. Her breasts bounced, in the way that only a bustline as big as sixty percent of a person’s entire body mass can, and she took a few more confident steps forward. She was starting to get familiar with her own body again, and she whirled around, examining herself in wonder. Yes… this was… familiar.

Her skin, moist and faintly green. Smaller than the average human, but obscenely stacked in hips and bust so that she wobbled from every inch with a single step. Blue armor, or perhaps a tight jumpsuit that looked disquietingly organic, clung tight to her hyper-sexed form, two angler fish lights dangling from her forearm gauntlets.

The feathery gills against the side of her face, projecting out from her elongated helmet and the angler lure projecting out behind it, flapped happily. She stamped on the ground, patting herself in wonder. “I’m… I’m here? I’m actually here? The REAL me!? My coding! My everything! My bigness!”

She hugged herself, causing a muffin top of breastflesh to flow over her face, and between her arms, and against her stomach. “I’m here again…!”

“Perhaps I should have warned you, dear,” the unseen voice said again. Now, perhaps more comfortable, it was warming up, with a bit of bounce, and sounded positively jolly, like a gift-giver or a rich and slightly loopy uncle. “We are not in what you might think of as the material realm. The rules are… looser, here.”

Ranamon looked up - in her own body, no platform, just HER - and saw only the train. She stood upon a platform in what looked like an empty void. No, scratch that. She saw a city of sorts, but barely any people walking across… she squinted. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of… no way. Platforms? Mile-long platforms, or perhaps islands floating freely in the void, connected by streamers of vibrant light. Perhaps surges of intense magic, so strong they had become a stable force. In the distance, she saw a small castle, floating around between several other platforms in a way that reminded her of a power core. Perhaps it was… fueling this place, somehow?

She looked away from the strangely shaped islands floating in the dark, and turned to the train. There was no conductor coming out. It was just her. “Okay, am I alone here? Are you… somewhere else? What am I supposed to do?”

“Hold a moment,” the voice said, and it was definitely coming from the train now.

The train… stood up. At least, that was one way to put it. She stared up in alarm as the train shifted forms and transformed into an entirely new form, reformatting itself and moving into a more humanoid configuration. She felt silly; she knew Transformers! She should have expected that! She hadn’t been in a remote controlled train, she’d been inside a Transformer!

The train, interestingly, shed it’s kibble. Most Transformers had elements of their alt form, but she knew that the ones in the Endowed Fleet, rivals to the Cobalts, had engineered a way to allow Transformers to assume entirely new ones on the fly; perhaps this one had gotten the same trick. The cab, the wheels, the underslung rail riding gear all disappeared into its body, exchanging itself for the signs of a born flier. Integrating engines, antigravity pods, a streamlined appearance and jet projectors all along the limbs that were quickly materializing.

It was a lot larger than many Transformers she had seen, too. Broad all over; the hips were very slim, but the arms and legs were huge. The chest was extremely broad, almost like a flat screen, and something about that was very worrying to her. There were no faction decals, brands or insignias. There were a few places which looked like there had been… at least, before they had been scorched away, most likely by this robot’s own hand.

Only one hand, at that. A huge and powerful set of claws, indelicate and badly scarred at the wrist. The secondary form of an old punishment practiced on ancient Cybertron; empurata, mutilating a Transformer’s body and replacing their parts with crude, clumsy replacements to publicly shame them and render them unable to act outside a given function. The other hand, though, was a mass of tools, a shifting and whirring bulk of micro-tools to accomplish any task, but it was also very clearly a massive cannon.

A flat broad chest. Empurata. A cannon-arm, and a distinctive bulky frame. She knew this Transformer.

Thousands upon thousands of horrified aliens knew his name. MAny more had seen his pitiless eye, before they were lost forever in his labs. Their pieces and parts scattered, bloodied bodies abandoned on the floor, entire worlds used for experimentation so horrendous and cruel that it was said even the legendarily vicious Mindfang thought they were too inhumane to even think about-

And now, staring down at her, was a head that had suffered the fate of primary empurata. His head removed, cut away, scarred and mutilated and placed back, all ability to expression emotion stripped away from it, cut down to the very framework. The living metal was a mass of burns and blade wounds, and a single large eye stared down at her.

“Greetings,” he said in a surprisingly cheerful voice. “We were not introduced. My apologies, I am-”

“Shockwave.” She took several steps back, trying not to upend herself with her own overlarge assets. “Oh God. You’re Shockwave.”

“...Ah.” He stared down at her. His tone was very soft. “You know of me.”

He’s a fucking MONSTER. He makes that maniac Grimlock on the Endowed Fleet look reserved and calm. He’s the one who turned Grimlock and his flock of monsters rabid! He melts down organic planets and uses them for fuel! He’s tortured people to death just to measure the sounds of their screams! He’s made parents eat their own children in psychological games just to test how far people are willing to go to survive! He stitches people to one another after turning them inside out, he replaces living metal with wood, he fills people with parasites, he’s done so many evil things that actual DEMONS are horrified by it. He’s defined what the world ‘cruelty’ actually means and, oh god, I AM ALONE WITH SHOCKWAVE.

It WAS A TRAP, he wanted a Digimon to cut up and do things to, I’m ALONE WITH SHOCKWAVE.

Ranamon raised her hands. “Don’t step any closer,” she said, keeping her voice level, the terror rising in her and putrid-sick. “I’ll put a hole in you. I still have my powers here, I can absolutely destroy you, you sick freak!”

Shockwave stared at her. “I doubt that you can,” he said eventually. “My people are incredibly hard to put down. We can be cut open, melted down, ripped apart, exposed to the emptiness of space, have our minds fried with electromagnetics… and still, we just cannot die.” A faint horror came into his voice. “Processors, cut open and exposed to the world. Spark champers removed and replaced with progressively more incapable fuel systems. The body slowly shuts down as it is damaged, one piece at a time… and yet, no matter how loud we want to die, we just cannot. Not without certain terrible means that, I believe, are not available to you.”

She paused. Something wasn’t quite right here.

”Cosmic rust. Total bodily failure; destroy all the organs of a Transformer simultaneously, and perhaps that will kill us. But do it even slightly wrong, and we won’t die. At least, not right away. We will live. No matter how much we deserve to die.”

Ranamon’s arms lowered extremely slightly. ABsolute terror was slightly fading away in favor of bewilderment. “Oh. You’re… not Shockwave. Are you?”

“I am.” The robot turned his eye towards her. She had seen pictures of it. The photos of the multiverse’s most evil criminal scientist and torturer were always the same: pitiless, heartless, utterly without morality or the hint of any feeling whatsoever. Nothing but logic, cold and empty.

This was anything but empty. The eye was wild, moving this way and that, his entire frame continually shuddered like some awful emotion was trying to tear him apart from the inside out, and though he was quiet for a moment, his body language suggested a mind that was screaming if only it could find a voice big enough for it.

“You remember me as I was,” he began.

“I was Senator Shockwave, a long time ago,” Shockwave continued, voice marginally under control. “Idealist, reformer. I was, i tried to be… good. And then, the Functionalists took my mind from me. They cut it apart and sliced away everything from me but my ability to think logically, and they taught me what cruelty really was. And then, and… oh, yes.”

He spread his arms mockingly.

“Yes,” he said again. “You know of what I became. A true monster. An evil upon the multiverse, exceeded only by young Megatron.” His tone became soft and weary.

Distantly, Ranamon thought that she had heard that Shockwave had disappeared some time ago, after the formal dissolution of the Decepticon Empire. She had assumed he had gone to unknown worlds, to inflict his special brand of scientific curiosity upon all unfortunate enough to meet him. “What happened to you?”

Shockwave turned, rising out of whatever deep pit he had been in, and pointed. Ranamon turned to see a vast blue shape regarding them politely, floating in the vast abyss around them. A huge shape, beautiful and terrible at once, and inexpressibly sorrowful; perhaps mourning for all existence. A vast curtain of white light fluttered around a beautifully alien face, and enormous, kissable lips measured in miles, the rest of the giantess so massive that she was exerting her own gravity, little planetoids around her, and her body was… big. And curvy, really very curvy. Unbelievably massive breasts even larger than Ranamon’s in comparison, hips almost wider than this giantess was tall.

And, nestled between her interstellar cleavage, there was a massive blue diamond. A gem core.

“Oh my god,” Ranamon whispered. “That’s Blue Diamond! I heard she vanished after she was freed from the clutches of the Emperor of Destruction!”

“Megatron, yes,” Shockwave said, now apparently calmed down. “I… met her afterwards. When I was still that thing I had been remade into. And she made me feel…” he trailed off.

“Feel what?”

“Everything. Everything I had ever done. The true enormity of all those lives lost by my hand, the horrors of the things I created. She made me feel the pain of it, and made it so that I could never forget again who I truly am.”

Shockwave began to walk. “Come, little one. We have plenty of time to discuss matters with our patron, but it is impolite to keep an appointment waiting.”

Ranamon hurried, glancing back again at the intoxicating sight of Blue Diamond. The giant gem looked so… serene, and she had always heard that Blue Diamond had her heart broken long ago. And yet, she looked… at peace?

In a strange way, so did Shockwave. “May I offer you a lift?” He transformed again, this time assuming a cylindrical craft approximately the size of a jet fighter, the design somewhere between a baroque rocket and a very fancy plane. He hovered above the ground for her, politely.

“Um. Sure.” She climbed aboard, and the two took off towards the castle… or whatever it was… she had seen earlier.

They parked within it, departing into the depths of the castle, and Shockwave assumed his biped form again as they came to some kind of shabby office within it. As they waited to be seen, Ranamon asked, “Where exactly are we?”

Shockwave looked thoughtful. “An interesting question. A good answer may be another question: where are we not?”

She blinked. “Um. I don’t think we’re in the material plane: I was breathing in something but I’m a data entity. I don’t have lungs or a metabolism. I can feel all kinds of magic around me, so… the magical realms, maybe? But then things would be more hectic and it’s just kind of… empty here? Are we outside, in some other lost realm?”

“Good reasoning! But no, not quite. We are nowhere at all.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Think of it like this!” They were both sitting down now, and somehow their chairs were just big enough to seat their wildly disparate sizes. Shockwave sounded downright enthusiastic, like a gentleman professor eager to be teaching again. It was surreal given his reputation. “We are in a place that is defined by not being anywhere else. We are quite literally outside reality; a special pocket realm, outside the multiverse as a whole, maintained by powerful divine influences. From here, it is possible to access any point in the multiverse, particularly the mortal universes, but time does not pass for us, nor do most normal laws of physics.”

Shockwave went on like this for a while. Eventually three figures appeared; a tall man in a super cool black outfit that was mostly body armor and longcoat garb. Beside him was a giant woman, apparently human and over fifty feet tall, nonchalantly stepping around him. She wasn’t wearing much, and had a lot to keep covered up; breasts bigger than her entire upper body, hips wider than a doorway her size would be, powerful thighs suitable for her frame, Covering her modesty was a pair of micro shorts, in red, a spangly bikini, and a short jacket like something an old school jester might wear but updated for the times.

She was also, apparently, very pale. She leaned over, breasts almost bouncing into the ground, and the other two had to dance away to avoid getting caught. “Heya, doc! You borin’ a newbie?”

“I do not bore, Doctor Quinzel,” Shockwave said loftily. “I educate! There’s a difference but not much of a distinction, perhaps.”

“Hah.” She stood up. Her hair was pulled up into two huge pig tails that dangled down to her waist, dyed alternating colors of red and blue. The overall effect was of zany cuteness. “Don’t forget, we got an appointment tonight. Therapy session pronto, ya hear me?”

“I hear you.”

Doctor Quinzel - Harley Quinn, as Ranamon would later know her - skipped away. The other two figures approached; Ranamon gaped at the taller of the pair. “Amelie Lacroix!”

It was her, and she raised an eyebrow. “Ah, so you decided to come. Good work.”

“Told you she’d take us up on it,” said the other guy smugly. He was wearing a mask that sort of looked like a skull, and a lot like a very stylized barn owl face. He stuck out a clawed hand to Ranamon. “Gabriel Reyes. My call sign is Reaper. When we’re out in the field, I make sure you don’t die horribly.”

Ranamon shook his hand. “Uh… field?”

“...Hrm. She doesn’t know?” Reaper, or Mr Reyes, directed this to Shockwave.

Shockwave nodded curtly. “We are here about that.”

“Right. Well, Waller will see you know.”

Behind them, a door opened. In between explanations about the people they had met (‘Miss Quinn used to be a fearsome villain, but reformed after rethinking a very bad relationship she was in’ ‘Mister Reyes helped found our group here, he was once human but was empowered a long time ago, and made contact with some strange entity that was interested in this whole affair; Zarathos, I believe was the name of it’ and ‘Miss Lacroix; a custom made clone series designed to be physically perfect superhuman soldiers, she was programmed for assassination but once she was freed of it, she sought to make amends), Shockwave gave her some quick instructions.

“Be polite, don’t waste time, and don’t mess about. Miss Waller does not approve of that. But be honest, even rude, and she might approve. Just don’t lie to her, she will know.”

“Okay,” Ranamon said, more confused than ever.

“And bear in mind. If you choose to walk away, no harm will come to you. You will return to where you were, just fine, no harm done to you, but you will have the memory… ah, removed. To be safe, you see.”

“Seems fair,” Ranamon said, in a bit of a daze.

She expected to see an ominous and foreboding figure, perhaps a demonic entity of some sort, but it was nothing more unusual than a robust and heavily built human woman. Dark-skinned, broad featured, her hair cut closely to her scalp, every inch a consummate professional.

Her broad expression was grim, even dour. “Ranamon, I believe,” she said curtly, as Shockwave stood there politely. “Please. Feel free to sit down.” She glanced up, expression softened slightly. “Senator. Feel free to sit, or transform into a more comfortable position.”

He shifted mode into his flight form, laying down on the ground contentedly. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Very good. Now, Ranamon.” She went through a heavy dossier, and put it on the table in front of her. “Take it, if you wish.”

Ranamon did so, nervously. “What is it…?”

“Your life, in fact.”

Ranamon opened it. A word right from her thoughts was on the top of a page: ‘I’m so tired of feeling like… nothing.’ “What the heck!?”

Ranamon rifled through it, Miss Waller studying her without any apparent expression.

Ranamon read from the beginning, for it detailed her early life as an In-Training Digimon and Baby. Then, the way her powers had mingled with the ancient force of the heroine AncientMermaidmon; her evolution into her current form, and the vast powers she had developed.

The dossier wasn’t general facts. It detailed her thoughts. Her memories were on open display here, her ideas, idle things they were, written down as plainly as text. Even cross-referenced with events that had led to her being affected by them, and other parts of the multiverse that criss-crossed and influence her own life, and how she affected it in turn…

She read onwards. To her joining the Cobalt Pirates… and her crimes as part of them.

Her growing dissatisfaction, her weariness, her emotional exhaustion. Her desire to be part of something better, to do something that mattered…

All of it so very detailed, precise and knowing. It was written in a way that she couldn’t argue with it, truth radiating from it like heat from a summer-day stone. It simply was. It would be foolish to dispute it.

“We are in contact with certain… shall we say, forces,” Miss Waller said calmly, perhaps aware of exactly what she was thinking. “That have an interest in the multiverse’s safety as a whole. Powerful entities that give us abilities, and information on people like you.”

“People like… me?”

“People who have done terrible things,” Waller said flatly. “Unforgivable, by many standards. And who want to do something better with themselves, all the same.”

Ranamon looked down, into her deep cleavage, for lack of anywhere else to look. That got her pretty good, she had to admit. “Yeah. Like me.”

“Yes.” Waller didn’t smile, but she did seem to approve. “You see, the powers who entrust this mission to me, and in turn approve all those whom Reyes and his allies scout out, can wash the board clean for you… so to speak. If you act in their name to make the multiverse a better place, to genuinely save it, and pull it back from the absolute mess it has become… then we can give you what you want most.”

Ranamon sat back, stunned.

Waller tilted her head. “It differs from person to person. A new start, for some. Perhaps you want a new life, somewhere in the multiverse, where you can start over, clean of your mistakes. Or maybe you want some troublesome curse removed. And maybe you just want nothing so materialistic, just an opportunity to fix things.” Shockwave radiated a bit at that. “And of course, there is always the option to remain with us, and be a part of an organization that wants to help and is equipped to do so.”

Ranamon stared blankly. “You want me to work for you? And I can… help people?”

“Help people? In a sense. You’d be helping the multiverse. Which is comprised of people so… it works out the same way.” Waller smirked faintly, crossing her fingers. “The conditions are simple. Work for us. Every mission you participate with turns the multiverse closer towards safety and long-term happiness for everyone. That, in turn, wipes away a bit of the debt you’ve accrued towards fate and whatever doom you may have visited upon yourself. Continue to do so, working for us in good faith, and eventually… all the evil you’ve done? You will have paid for it. If you can stick with us.” Her expression became cold. “Provided you are sincere. And believe me… we can tell.”

Ranamon gulped. “And… if I die?”

Waller smirked again. “Well. That might be a bit of an impediment. But we can work around that. It won’t slow us down, or you. Believe me.”

“...What would I have to do, if I joined you? Like, kill anyone!?”

“Perhaps. If they deserve to die. Or are evil enough.” Waller contemplated this. “Or if their deaths serve the multiverse as a whole. But we don’t do that sort of thing lightly. The tasks given to you are highly individual; hard to say exactly what will happen. I’d imagine something like what you have already done, but not for the sake of greed or just doing piracy.”

“Ah…” Ranamon thought about it.

Eventually, in very level tones, trying her hardest not to think about everything she might be leaving behind - all her friends, the comforts she was used to, but then was it even worth anything anymore? - she said, “Um. I have a question, miss.”

“Feel free. This is a recruitment interview. I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

Ranamon tilted her head. “You know in advance anything I might say, don’t you?”

Waller’s expression did not so much as twitch. Walls and stone had more emotion than she did. “I can’t see the future.”

“No, no, I don’t mean that. What I mean is… um.” She took a moment to gather her thoughts and the vague idea she had floating in the back of her mind. “Would you have reached out to me at all, if you weren’t absolutely sure I would probably say yes? On the spot?”

Waller stared at her for a moment longer. Her mouth twitched at one side, very slightly, in the manner of someone hiding a grim smile. “Well, well. You’re more perceptive than you let on.”

“Would you?” Ranamon pressed.

The human was silent, for a time, her expression not so much blank as refusing to admit even a hint of whatever she was thinking, or feeling.

Waller than spoke, and Ranamon was not at all exactly the most perceptive of Digimon but nonetheless she still felt a shiver go up her back, the watery portions of her body freezing solid and unfreezing so she could move. This woman, she sensed, was very dangerous, and when she spoke now, there was a sense that every word was being carefully chosen, weighed for effect, and deployed as strategically as a single well-placed shot.

It was impossible to say how much of anything Waller said was an honest truth, or what she believed Ranamon needed to hear.

Nevertheless. She was involved in some serious stuff right now.

“That depends entirely on who I invite down here,” Waller said. “Perhaps I would bring in a wildcard that would like to do the right thing more often than not, and I would hope for the best possible outcome. And as I’m sure you’ve been told, there are safeguards to protect us if that does not pan out. But… well. Known qunatities are the best possible option. I am always sure before I ask someone down here.”

Ranamon noted that this wasn’t really answering the question; at least, she would have preferred a more straightforward answer. But that was likely the best she would get, from the impression Waller gave off.

Ranamon smiled faintly. “Well… okay. I guess you know me better than I know myself.

“I’ll do it.” And Ranamon stuck her hand out.

Waller raised an eyebrow. “...Hrm. That was quick. You sure you wouldn’t rather have some time to think about it, at least? Not even a minute to consider the ups, the downs, the possible traps at play here?” Her tone was challenging, daring: go on, I wanna see what you’ll do.

“No.” As she said it, Ranamon felt… freed. Like anything bad from here on out honestly didn’t matter that much, compared to what she hoped could happen. If it was a trap or not… who cared? If anyone here was being honest or not, did it matter that much? This felt like a good thing she was getting into,

The first good thing she was doing in a long, long time.

“I’m in,” Ranamon said. “I’m joining up, I’m signing for it, I’m all yours. Okay? A chance to make something better and actually do something worth me?” Ranamon said, grinning. “Count me in.”

Waller stared at her a bit longer than was strictly necessary. Then she grinned. She shook Ranamon’s hand.

“Welcome to Task Force X, Ranamon,” Waller said, with pride.

[gadgetsforusesblog]

Warren Buffett's Berkshire Hathaway reveals it sold about $6 billion worth of Chevron stock last quarter

Warren Buffett.Paul Morigi/Stringer/Getty Images Warren Buffett’s Berkshire Hathaway sold about $6 billion worth of Chevron stock in the first quarter. Berkshire cashed in about 35 million shares, or 20% of its stake in the oil titan, earnings show. Buffett’s company may have sold shares in Taiwan Semiconductor and two US banks, an analyst said. Warren Buffett’s Berkshire Hathaway sold an…

[futurejunglist]

Future Jungle Sessions #76 // 8K.NZ Radio // 25.09.2021

https://www.gwarden.net // https://linktr.ee/gwarden_nz 

LIVE on 8K.NZ ~ SAT 19:00 (NZST) // MON 02:00 // WED 05:00 // FRI 22:00

QZB, Rider Shafique - The Banker [Critical Music]

Creatures - Behemoth [FRAKTAL Sound]

Trex - Scene [Onyx Recordings]

Black Barrel - Just Keep My Life [Dispatch Recordings]

FX909 - Ancient Myth [Liquid Drops]

WitchCrafter, Collette Warren - Belén [soulfeeling recordings]

Minor Forms - DYR (Original Mix) [Vandal Ltd]

Black Barrel - It's So Crazy [Dispatch Recordings]

Lo! - Turmoil [AFT Records]

Kumarachi - Riddim [Liondub International]

Deekline, Specimen A - Oh No! [Gorilla Warfare]

Vital Elements - Bubble [V2E Recordings]

Conrad Subs - Cluster [Murky Digital]

Harley D - OMG [Grid Recordings UK]

Thematic - Railgun [Sofa Sound]

Tyke - THX Dub (Hexa Remix) [Grid Recordings UK]

Phuture Assassins - Future Sound (Cause4Concern Remix) [Suburban Base Recordings]

Loxy, INK - Shine (2021 Remaster) [Metalheadz]

Refracta - Diesel [Born On Road]

Easy - After Dark [Influence Records]

AYDN - No Ride Home [Goldfat Records]

Virtue - Make It Through [xJAK Audio]

Operate, Javeon - Notions [Overview Music]

Duskee, Disrupta, PAV4N - Radial Waves [DarkMode]

Pola & Bryson - Decay [Shogun Audio]

Rohaan - Denied [Space Yacht]

Trex, Rider Shafique - Undergrowth [Onyx Recordings]

Vektah - Tension [Soulvent Records]

Screamarts - Move It [Flexout Audio]

Objectiv - Crocs With Socks (Molecular Remix) [Bowlcut Beats]

Ill Truth - Secrets [Sofa Sound]

Alix Perez - Trinity (Skeptical Remix) [1985 Music]

Thematic, DLR - Repeating Cycles of Funk [Sofa Sound]

Sustance - Virtue [Shogun Audio]

Shadows - The Plug [Context Audio]

Accelerated - Deeper Meanings [Intrigue Music]

Smote, Bazil MC - I Can Show You [Fokuz Recordings]

Dr. Apollo - Mo90s [Program]

Soul Connection - Ever Blazing [Soul Deep Exclusives]

Bailey - Know Yourself [Precinct]

Nymfo, Phase - Bristol Bombay [Dispatch Recordings]

D*Minds - Everyday [RUN]

Dillinja - Human B-Bop (VIP Mix) [Valve Recordings]

Zero T - Fortune Green [The North Quarter]

Marcus Visionary - Full Control [Inner City Dance]

Veak, Zudakabass - Original Sound [Original Key Records]

Digital, Spirit, Flava, Dissect, Resound - Primal [Function Records]

High Frequency (UK) - Nation [Nuusic]

Gravit-E - Something Real [Grid Recordings UK]

Dunk, Carasel - Modulation [Dubplate Dread]

Polarized - Miscalculations [Lost The Plot]

Subtle Element - Monotonous [Trust Audio]

Tweakz, Suns - Redesign & Clarify [Four Corners]

Universal Project, Ben Verse, Si Franks - Real Thing Ft Si Franks [Rebel Music]

The Sauce - Untouchable [The Sauce Recordings]

The Sauce - A Truck Load [Souped Up Records]

Am:x - Travel [DLT9]

Alix Perez Ft Liam Bailey - Moving On (Break Remix) [1985 Music]

Delta Heavy - Work It [UKF]

LTJ Bukem - Flip the Narrative [Drum&BassArena]

Ruth Royall, Blacklab - Mind Over Matter [Soulvent Records]

LIMITS - Fading Away (Sikey Remix) [Fokuz Recordings]

Low:r - Parsley Soda [Program]

Soul Connection - It's Been A Long Time [Soul Deep Exclusives]

DJ Limited, Lizzy Stringer - Summer Vibes (Tearout Mix) [Playaz Recordings]

Alyness - Lost Ways [Four Corners]

Conrad Subs - Subterranean [Formation Records]

Ephyum, Invadhertz - Lantern [Dispatch Recordings]

Scepticz, OaT - Indigo Funk [Guidance]

Scar - Why [Metalheadz]

J Select - Selecta (Toby Ross Remix) [DnB Allstars Records]

T>I - Let It Go [Computer Integrated Audio]

Trex - Roller (VIP) [Emcee Recordings]

Confusious, Mystic - Like This [Fokuz Recordings]

K Jah - State To State VIP [Masterpeace Recordings]

DJ FUTURE - Fate Providence (Original Mix) [DSCI4]

Bcee - Is Anybody out There? (S.P.Y. VIP) [Spearhead Records]

DJ Hybrid, Haribo - Stay High (2021 Mix) [Liondub International]

Georgia Pheonix - Fix Up [SASASAS]

Gella - Crystal Raindrops [Born On Road]

Machinedrum - Braided Leaves (Visages Remix) [1985 Music]

Black Barrel, Future Engineers - Beyond [Dispatch Recordings]

Pola & Bryson, Kojo - Closer to Home [Shogun Audio]

Sikka - Find a way [Sikkabrain Recordings]

Ray Keith - Back In The Day [Dope Ammo Records]

Fanu, Infader - Truth & Lies [Straight Up Breakbeat]

Phase, Grey Code - Call In Me [Metalheadz]

Hood - Welcome To The North [Informal.]

Elder - Weird Tech [Pick 'n' Mix]

Justin Hawkes - IJDK [Space Yacht]

High Contrast - If We Ever (Unglued Remix) [Hospital Records]

Unglued, Singing Fats - Sardinian Sunrise [Hospital Records]

Need for mirrors - Ultra Violin [SUNANDBASS Recordings]

Sub Focus, Bou - World of Hurt (Bou Remix) [RAM Records]

[sharkoman]

The David McCullough Bridge, commonly and historically known as the 16th Street Bridge, is a steel trussed through arch bridge that spans the Allegheny River in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.The 16th Street Bridge replaced the Mechanics Street Bridge which had been completed at the behest of the State of Pennsylvania in 1838. The 16th Street Bridge was constructed in 1922 with a length of 1,900 feet (580 m) and a width of 40 feet (12 m). This is a stunningly beautiful arch bridge and arguably one of the most beautiful bridges in the city. The center arch is the largest span, with the other two being slightly smaller. This bridge has an extensive approach system of stringer spans. Large, decorative stone pillars at each end of the main spans of the bridge act as visual portals and have substantial decoration.Fort Pitt Bridge Works is listed as a contractor for the bridge as well as Vang Construction Company of Cumberland, Maryland. Warren and Wetmore were the architects for the bridge and they were in charge of designing the architectural appearance of the bridge under the guidance of Pittsburgh's Art Commission which had significant power at the time to influence the design of bridges in the city. The controlling power that aesthetics had in the design of this and a number of other bridges in Pittsburgh is something so nearly unheard of in modern bridge construction that it seems almost mythical, the idea that not only should a bridge be beautiful, but that beauty should be one of the primary design factors for the bridge. #architecture #trussbridge   #raw_bridges #onlyinPennsylvania #pennslyvaniaphotographer #bridgehunter #citykillerz  #architecture_magazine #bridgesofinstagram #scenicphotography  #city_captures #bridge #pennsylvaniaarchitecture #railroadbridge #bridges_of_theworld #architecturephoto #bridgephotography #bridgesoftheworld #bridges_of_our_world #bridges_of_instagram (at Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania) https://www.instagram.com/p/CM0f97cJFVt/?igshid=1ibw7dg9il4l3

[coinnewsfx]

Warren Buffett's Berkshire Hathaway made nearly $ 100 billion with Apple thanks to its record stock rally 2020

Warren Buffett's Berkshire Hathaway made nearly $ 100 billion with Apple thanks to its record stock rally 2020

Paul Morigi / Stringer / Getty Images

Warren Buffett's Berkshire Hathaway made nearly $ 100 billion in profits on its Apple stock.

The billionaire investor's company owns 981 million shares valued at approximately $ 132 billion – $ 97 billion more than the $ 35 billion of its investment.

Thanks to Apple's stock rally, Berkshire's stake is worth more than Lowe, Starbucks, or IBM.

You can find…

[katrinelillianwarren]

You can trust me

24.06.2067

K : Non si accorge subito di Sebastian, se non dopo che ha parlato, ma anche lì rimanendo con gli occhi chiusi, non lo riconosce subito, altrimenti la sigaretta sarebbe finita infondo al lago e i capelli si sarebbero sciolti in pochi secondi. «Se dò fastidio posso andare via..» andrebbe a dire aprendo solo ora le iridi smeraldine che si vanno automaticamente a fermare sulla figura del grifondoro probabilmente già di spalle..«trovato..» sussurra poi con un mezzo sorriso, il grifo può anche non aver sentito, questo dipende certo da quanto velocemente sia sceso dalle scale «Davvero.. puoi restare.. non parlo» aggiungerebbe infine tornando a guardare quella sigaretta, e nuovamente il cielo...

S: La scruta attentamente, senza muovere le labbra e dire una parola. Deglutisce, riflettendoci su. « no, resta. » spiccica semplicemente, senza sorridere in alcun modo. Neanche al suo "trovato", in effetti. Non ne ha motivo. Eppure non smette mai di guardarla, cercando qualche particolare di troppo, ma in realtà riflettendo sul da farsi. « okay, va bene. » mormora, dirigendosi verso il balcone della torre, ma mettendosi il più lontano possibile dalla tassorosso, per i fatti suoi, insomma, come a non voler farla intromettere nei suoi fatti. Poggiato di schiena alla parete, la sigaretta viene voltata con dubbio tra le mani, indeciso se fumarla o no o qualcosa del genere. La sigaretta di Matt. La sua nuova inutile tentazione verso il male.

K:  Sbuffa piano, non sa bene cosa farsene, è talmente impegnata a stare china su quella sigaretta che non si accorge neanche di Seb,del fatto che sia alla sua sinistra, e sopratutto che lei non si sia slegata quei capelli, la mente le dice che deve fare qualcosa, ma non sa che cosa, in quel quadro non ci vede nulla di male. Però in quella posizione la cicatrice di cinque centimetri che si nasconde di solito dietro i capelli dietro l`orecchio sinistro rimane ben visibile ad un occhio ben allenato.Si volterebbe a guardare il ragazzo con un mezzo sorrisino, per poi tornare a fissare il pavimento «piove» andrebbe quasi a sussurrare.

S: Il capo resta quindi verso il basso, intrappolato in quella piccola illusione creata dal bisogno di distruggersi tramite quell`affare regalatogli dall`auror. Certo, quello stesso sguardo ceruleo, però, cade su molti dettagli e più volte sulla ragazza come a volersi distrarre dalla follia che vuole compiere. Ma questa volta non ci sarà nessuna vita altrui a farlo tornare allegro, no. Questa volta la sensazione è più forte; il muro è crollato. Quegli stessi occhi, dopo aver guardato ogni cosa, si voltano quindi ancora una volta in direzione della Warren, ma soltanto questa volta scorge un`enorme cicatrice a rovinarle il collo. « ma che ti sei fatta lì ? » con voce per niente pacata, portando l`indice in direzione della cicatrice, fissandola. Addio beata delicatezza.

K:  Le gambine si allungano e con un cuscino e la brezza della pioggia la temperatura per un pisolino sarebbe perfetta, se non per un piccolo lieve dettaglio che manda tutto in fumo, Seb nota la cicatrice, certo perché furba com`è si è scordata di slegarsi i capelli.Ed è nel momento in cui lui lo domanda che le iridi si spalancano in preda all`ansia e giù le mani a tirare giù i boccoli biondi a coprire quello scempio che parte per metà da dietro l`orecchio giù per quei cinque centimetri d`orrore.Ci manca poco che dalla velocità non rischia di dare una sberla alla mano del ragazzo che avvicina l`indice,« sono i miei soliti capelli..» commenta convinta che lui se la possa bere, «mi sono tinta da un pò ormai..» commenta guardando inizialmente le scarpe per poi puntare gli occhioni su Sebastian, lei sa che lui non si riferisce a quello, e sa che probabilmente lui non mollerà, ma forse ha talmente tanti problemi che quella macchia di storia impressa nel collo della ragazza le passa per la mente . S: Flette le sopracciglia sul volto, spostandosi leggermente ed avvicinandosi di più a lei, come se dipendesse da lui il loro parlarsi o meno o finalmente lui avesse mollato la presa di forza e la barriera difensiva d`orgoglio e bugie. Proverebbe a toccare il segno della cicatrice visto prima sul collo della ragazza, senza chiederle neanche il permesso, scavando tra quei suoi capelli per accertarsi che questa sia vera. « ma no, non era il colore, era una cicatrice. » mormora, senza neanche pretendere di farsi i fatti suoi, con un certo interesse. « qual è la storia della tua cicatrice? » flette le sopracciglia, guardandola costantemente. Uccidetelo. K: Posa la sigaretta sul lato destro, per evitare di rovinarla, ora ha altro a cui pensare «hey,hey, hey» andrebbe a dire mentre il quintino "s`immerge" tra i suoi capelli.«Seb dai..» si tassolagnerebbe mentre con la sinistra cercherebbe inutilmente di fermarlo.Un respiro profondo, e la testa andrebbe a inclinarsi verso sinistra « non è niente dai.. » ma il sestino pare fin troppo curioso,per potersi fermare ad un "niente". Con la mano andrebbe a spostare una ciocca di capelli, cercando di coprire inutilmente, visto che questa torna al posto di prima lasciandola intravedere nuovamente «Non c`è nessuna cicatrice..» quasi a pregarlo di crederle, le iridi smeraldine si punterebbero su di lui, quegli occhioni da cucciolo, quella mani sinistra sospesa a mezz`aria pronta a cacciarlo via, o nel caso fosse riuscita a fermarlo terrebbe il polso di lui «ti prego» direbbe infine.

S: Forse capisce troppo tardi che la ragazza non vuole che lui frughi nel suo passato, o almeno le continui a domandare su quella cicatrice. Capisce troppo tardi quanto sia realmente stato poco delicato. « ah. » deglutisce, spostando lo sguardo verso il basso ed allontanandosi leggermente dalla ragazza, dopo aver scavato nei suoi capelli alla ricerca di quella cicatrice che aveva visto precedentemente, quasi pauroso nel non trovarla più lì. L`ha messa in imbarazzo, e lo nota dai suoi gesti, forse è per questo che lascia scivolare la sigaretta nella tasca e le si pone davanti. Il palmo destro viene levato in direzione dei suoi occhi, mostrando due grossi tagli che percorrono verticalmente tutto il palmo della mano, pseudo cicatrizzati. « queste sono le mie cicatrici » mormora, con un mezzo sorriso drammatico « pensavano mi volessi .. » gli risulta difficile dirlo, quasi « uccidere e volevano togliermele prepotentemente dalla mano, allora ho stretto il vetro ed eccole qui. Ho paura che non se ne vadano, che rimangano lì, ma ... me la sono cercata. » scrolla le spalle, sedendosi accanto a lei, con un tono diverso da quelli precedenti, più disponibile a lei, quasi. Non le chiede di raccontare di sé. Non più, ormai. Ha capito. K: Alla parola suicidio..senza dire niente andrebbe con l`indice a passare la destra in direzione della mano di lui, con un tocco delicato, quasi impercettibile,mentre la sinistra và a spostare i capelli piegando di poco la testa, giusto per fargli capire che non lo stava prendendo in giro, ma che l`aveva solo colta di sorpresa; la cicatrice si mostrerebbe dunque in tutto il suo orrore. «mia nonna..» andrebbe a sussurrare quasi «...e sulla caviglia» andrebbe a dire infine sempre a bassa voce, per poi lasciar andare i capelli, tornando a guardarlo. «mi..dispiace..» andrebbe infine a dire, cercando *s`egli glielo permettesse* di accarezzargli la guancia con la destra e regalandogli un sorriso sincero e dolce. S: Rimane in piedi davanti a lei, ancora mostrando la mano, la stessa che andrebbe poi a dirigersi verso il basso, lungo il busto, mentre dalle labbra uscirebbe un delicato sospiro. « a volte penso che la gente starebbe meglio senza di me se morissi, ma pensare al suicidio .. no, mai. » la verità è che non avrebbe il coraggio, più che altro. Un argomento delicato per lui questo. Nota la difficoltà che questa dimostra nel riferirsi alla sua di cicatrice, e lentamente, senza alcuna paura di un eventuale contatto fisico, proverebbe a posare la sua mano ferita su quella della ragazza, la prima, provando a stringerla. E` lì, in ogni caso, anche se l`ultima volta le ha castato un incantesimo contro. « tua nonna? » domanda, quindi, flettendo le sopracciglia e guardandola dubbioso. « tua nonna ti ha fatto del male, Kat? » troppo vicino a lei, ora, forse. Troppo preso dalla storia. Poi si allontanerebbe, ed allontanerebbe anche la mano « ah, sì, scusami .. non sono fatti miei. » tutto impacciato. K: Un sussulto quando il sestino le stringe la mano, ma non la ritrae, non ne ha la forza, sa che lui c`è, ed è contenta, di sentirlo li, vicino, la storia della sua cicatrice e ben diversa da quella di Sebastian, annuisce, stringendo di risposta a quella di Seb  « si » sussurra piano, la domanda arriva come una ventata gelida, lui e lascia la mano, le chiede scusa, le apre la bocca, lo sguardo basso, sospira « no..tu me l`hai raccontato » lo dice sincera, le gambe vanno ad incrociarsi in modo da farla sedere con le spalle ben dritte, anche se la testa e le iridi rimangono basse « Sono stata con lei per quattro anni »  inizia a dire alzando le iridi e puntando gli occhioni sul ragazzo « non ama i mezzosangue.. », il mento si appoggia alle ginocchia, « e non era particolarmente gentile con me... » parole dette a metà. S: Abbassa il capo verso il basso, per qualche secondo, prima di tornare a fissarla. « non sei obbligata a dirmelo .. io te l`ho detto per non farti sentire da sola. » mormora, sincero, completamente diverso da com`era ieri. Masochista, sì, ma differente nei casi. Poi questa comincia a parlare e si mordicchia il labbro superiore con un certo nervosismo, avvicinandosi di nuovo a lei. La mano che proverebbe di nuovo a stringere la sua. «ah, figurati con i nati babbani, allora! » lui, in pratica. « c`è sempre questa gente. Io sono stato ... fortunato. » con una famiglia che ha un certo precedente, di sicuro. « Ehy, Katrine, è passato tutto, okay? Puoi raccontarmelo, puoi dirmi cosa ti è successo e puoi liberarti del tuo grande peso. Fa sempre bene parlarne ... e ti puoi fidare di me. » mormorerebbe con tono più dolce, provando a posarle un`altra mano sulla guancia come per accarezzargliela, con un sorriso curvato sulle labbra tenero.

K: La mano di Sebastian torna a stringere quella di Katrine che di risposta a stringe a sua volta «Io lo ero..con mamma e le zie ero felice...» un sorriso in ricordo del passato, la voglia di parlare, di raccontare, l`orgoglio che ricaccia dentro quelle lacrime le iridi si abbassano sulla mano fino al momento in cui il sestino con la sua non le accarezza la guancia, un sorriso tirato di risposta « quando..» inizierebbe a parlare senza lasciare la mano di Sebastian, quell`ancora di salvezza, quel muro che solo lei sa cosa può significare «quando la mamma se n`è andata, sono stata con le zie fino ai sette anni.» pausa, vuole essere sicura che lui la segua, per non ripetere, per non rivivere «la nonna materna l`ha scoperto, sapeva che sarei dovuta venire qui e voleva essere sicura che venissi realmente qui e non in una qualche scuola babbana..» un`altra pausa e un sospiro «pensavo mi insegnasse tutto, mi spiegasse come stavano le cose, pensavo di stare bene...invece..» le labbra le iniziano a tremare e la stretta sulla mano di Seb si fà più forte, sopportabilissima probabilmente per il ragazzo vista la poca forza fisica di Katrine 

«sono stata quattro anni in una soffitta nascosta dai suoi amici maghi e dalle sue amiche streghe perché ero la feccia della famiglia, l`errore, papà non stava quasi mai a casa, era sempre in ospedale, e le zie non avevano il permesso di vedermi..così sgattaiolavo fuori di casa e andavo da BonnieKate, non sapevo che lei fosse una strega e lei non sapeva di me, eravamo solo due bambine normali..»

un sorriso impercettibile su quel visino di porcellana 

«ma lei lo veniva sempre a sapere e così preferiva provare le sue doti magiche su di me, piuttosto che mettermi in punizione, non ricordo quali incantesimi provasse, non li conoscevo, e più che altro cercavo di dimenticare tutto. Ha esagerato due volte, e mi sono rimaste due cicatrici... la maggior parte delle volte sparivano i segni dopo qualche settimana, ma queste...» 

non riesce a finire e una lacrima spunta fuori da quel viso, la mano libera prontamente l`asciuga andando a preservare quella maschera di forza «quella lettera è stata una benedizione, e da quando sono qui, a parte qualche incubo il primo anno, è andato tutto bene, al quarto ha smesso di usare la magia su di me, perché sapeva che io sarei stata più forte e sarei riuscita a dirlo a mio padre, e quest`anno ha deciso di smettere di combattermi» Finisce così e rimane a guardare il sestino con quegli occhi così grandi in quel visino così piccolo. S: Nell`ascoltare quel suo racconto non può far altro che venirgli un abisso al cuore. E si sente fortunato, terribilmente fortunato. La mano proverebbe a stringere quella della ragazza ed il capo ad appoggiarsi a quello di lei, aumentando il contatto fisico ma semplicemente per darle il suo massimo appoggio in tutti i modi possibili. Non sa cosa dire, in effetti. « hai tutte le maniere per minacciarla se dovesse farti del male » mormora semplicemente, con voce più bassa « e hai un gruppo di amici disposti a difenderti, basta soltanto trovare il modo di chiamarli per te » parla ancora. Si sta includendo nel gruppo. « mi dispiace, Katrine, non potevo immaginare. » abbassa lo sguardo verso il basso. Si sta sicuramente pentendo di averglielo chiesto. « anche io sono il dannato della famiglia, diciamo. Solo che a me è per il verso contrario. » parla, come a voler ricambiare il favore. « vivo tra i babbani, mi sento uno di loro, solo che ... che penso che sia per colpa mia se mio padre ha tagliato tutti i ponti con i miei zii e roba varia, quando ho cominciato ad essere "strano". Sono stato fortunato, già. » perché c`era quell`altro mago che non ha fatto di certo una bella fine, ovvio. Un piccolo sorriso compare sulle labbra, poi. Forzato ma dolce. « è passato. Non avere paura, Kat. » K: L`atmosfera è un misto di dolce e aspro, con un tocco di tristezza assoluta e li avvolge tutti e due, Katrine perché è il passato e Sebastian perché suo malgrado c'è finito dentro, in quel vortice di ferite interne ed esterne,che guariscono ma mai del tutto. E Kat inizia a sentirsi in colpa ha affibbiato quella tristezza anche a lui che non ne aveva di certo bisogno, lei voleva farlo stare bene non di certo deprimerlo ancora di più, eppure quel gesto, quell`avvicinare la testa alla sua, le fà scattare un sorriso, live e certo, ma pur sempre un sorriso. «aveva solo paura di quello che non conosceva» sussurra con le iridi basse su quelle mani e con la fronte appoggiata a quella del grifondoro  «non lo sa nessuno» un`altra confessione «solo tu..» le ultime due parole sono sussurrate, «non importa.. è passato.. mi dispiace averti trascinato in questa cosa.. con tutti i tuoi pensieri..» ancora sussurri, non occorre urlare, sono vicini, e si fanno forza, o meglio, lui fà forza a lei, stavolta. Ascolta le parole di lui «non sei strano, sei speciale» lo correggerebbe con un sorriso «non devi sentirti in colpa per ciò che sei.. tu non ne hai colpa...» altre parole, dette piano, con calma «Non hai nessuna colpa..» la mano libera andrebbe ad accarezzargli il viso e un sorriso stavolta un pò più potente di prima le illumina il viso dolce lei, alle parole di lui risponderebbe semplicemente «Non ho paura.Ora.non più» e già, ora che qualcuno lo sa, non è più sola. 

[athenaamartin]

California Modern Beach House

  It’s a real pleasure to be sharing this beautiful project by Emma Erkelens of Emma Nicole Interiors on Home Bunch today.

This project was a complete renovation. The goal throughout this project was to create a relaxed and modern beach home and the designer did an amazing job! This California modern beach house shows that you don’t need to add shells around the house to give it a coastal flair. Not that there’s anything wrong with that – but this home features a more minimalist coastal approach. One that calms you down and lets you focus on the sound of waves just outside the door.

  California Modern Beach House

Green kitchens are not very common but I would love to see more of them. Emma did an amazing job with the color and style she used on the cabinets, and with the elements she paired them with. The kitchen cabinet paint color is Dill Grass by Dunn Edwards.

Kitchen Island Dimensions – 3’6”W X 8’L

Kitchen Island Lighting: Rejuvenation Folk Abigail 15” Soft Cone Pendant – Others: here, here, here, here, here, here, here & here.

Stools: Williamsen Counterstool – Others: here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here & here.

Cabinetry

All cabinetry was built by Quality Woodworks Inc. Wood Type: Rift White Oak. Cabinet Style: Flat Panel.

Oak

Floating Shelves: White Oak, custom – similar here.

Beautiful Cutting Boards/Charcuterie: here, here, here & here.

Countertop & Backsplash

Kitchen Countertop & Slab Backsplash: Statuario Marble.

Kitchen Faucet

Faucet: Brizo Litze Bridge Faucet in Luxe Gold.

Cabinet Hardware – Rejuvenation – Others: here, here & here.

Sink: here – similar.

Dining Room

Recently renovated, this Double Stringer Steel Staircase with Wood Treads becomes an architectural element between the Kitchen and Dining Room.

Table: Oak Dining Table – Other Beautiful Options: here, here, here, here, here, here, here & here.

Chairs: Lulu+Georgia Alvi Dining Chair – Others: here, here, here, here, here, here & here.

Beams: The Kitchen, Dining Room and Living Room features a tray ceiling with beams running throughout.

Wood Flooring: Warren Christopher European White Oak Custom Stain – similar here.

Rug: Surya.

Living Room

The Living Room features a modern fireplace with black tile, comfortable yet stylish furniture and custom ceiling beams. Walls are in Dunn Edwards DEW380 White.

Sofa: CB2 Forte Channeled Leather Sofa.

Coffee Table: Anthropologie Swirled Drum Coffee Table.

Chairs: Available through the designer – Others: here, here, here, here & here.

Side Table: McGee & Co Caleb Side Table.

Rug: Anthropologie Kyle Rug.

Poufs: Surya – Others: here, here, here & here.

Fireplace Tile – 2 X 9 Matte Concerto Tile from Arizona Tile – similar here.

Entry Bench: Bench: McGee & Co Alfie Woven Leather Bench – similar here.

Powder Room

Featuring a custom floating vanity with chunky mitered edge countertop and floating shelves, this Powder Room truly exceeds your expectations.

Countertop: Metropolis Dark Quartz.

Faucet: Kohler Purist Wall Mount Faucet in Brass.

Lighting: Cedar & Moss Tumwater Large Pendants.

Baskets: Large & Medium.

Mirror: here & here – similar.

Powder Bath Tile: 6 X 6 Rue Des Rosiers – Charcoal on Levan – Other Beautiful Accent Tiles: here, here, here, here, here, here & here.

Happy Bedroom

I love the soothing feeling of this bedroom. The artwork certainly makes me smile!

Bed: Crate & Barrel Rio Bed.

Art: Gray Malin (Two Llamas with Pink Balloons III).

Bedding: here – similar.

Bunk Room

We can call a Bunk Room any room with a bunk bed, right? This one comes from RH.

Bed: Restoration Hardware Kids Cole House Bunk Bed with Canvas Tent – Other Fun Options: here & here.

Art: Gray Malin (Artist in Residence II).

Rug: Anthropologie Pointillist Rug.

Bedding: RH Kids – similar here, here &  here.

Guest Bathroom

With a modern black and white color scheme, this Bathroom feels crisp and current. Paint color is Dunn Edwards White.

Countertop: Metropolis Dark Quartz.

Cabinet Hardware: Rejuvenation Pulls & Knobs.

Faucet: Brizo Faucet with T Levers in Luxe Gold.

Lighting: Rejuvenation Tolson Wall Sconce.

Mirror: here – similar.

Shower

I am loving the tile combination in this shower. It looks even crispier when accentuated with a dark Quartz bench and shower frame.

Shower Tile: 2 X 8 1/2 Pure White Matte – similar here (glossy).

Shower Pan Tile: Mini Chevron – Black Basalt – Others: here, here & here.

Shower is framed in Metropolis Dark Quartz.

Shower Faucet: Brizo.

Master Bedroom

We need a world that is less complicated and I think that starts with and in our home. The more soothing our environments are, the more chance we have to have a clear mind and more time to do what we truly love… and taking ten pillows off the bed at night and putting them back again in the morning is not one of them.

Paint Color: Dunn Edwards DEW380 White.

Nightstands: Micah Nightstand – Others: here, here, here, here, here, here & here.

Bedding: Duvet & Shams.

Long Lumbar: The Citizenry.

Art: Gray Malin (Fog & Waves, San Francisco).

Lighting: Cedar & Moss Terra Sconce.

Master Bathroom

If you have been reading the blog lately you will recall seeing this same 4×4 tile on other projects I’ve featured recently. This tile is the new trend and it’s being used in bathrooms, like we see above, and also in kitchens.

Master Bath: 4 X 4 Weathered White Cle Tile.

Faucets: Phylrich Basic Faucet in Matte Black.

Lighting: Ravelle Grand Sconce – similar here – Others: here, here & here.

Mirrors: here & here – similar – Others: here, here & here.

Countertop

Countertop: Thassos Marble with mitered edge.

Cabinet Hardware – Rejuvenation – similar here & here.

Rugs: Anthropologie Vashti Rug.

Tub

Tub: Victoria and Albert Barcelona Matte Black – Others: here, here & here.

Bath Caddy: Victoria & Albert.

Shower

Shower Tile: 12×24 Bianco Dolomiti – Honed – similar here.

Shower Pan Tile: Marble Penny Round Tile – similar here.

Beachfront Patio

Almost any type of stress would melt away with a view like that! Patio tile is 8×8 Cement Arc Black + White Square from Cle.

Paint Color: DEW380.

Hear the Waves

Take a few deep breaths and allow yourself to feel calmer and relaxed…

    Many thanks to the designer for sharing the details above.

Interiors: Emma Nicole Interiors (Instagram)

Photography: Jill Craig.

    Click on items to shop:

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Best Sales of the Month:

Thank you for shopping through Home Bunch. For your shopping convenience, this post may contain AFFILIATE LINKS to retailers where you can purchase the products (or similar) featured. I make a small commission if you use these links to make your purchase, at no extra cost to you, so thank you for your support. I would be happy to assist you if you have any questions or are looking for something in particular. Feel free to contact me and always make sure to check dimensions before ordering. Happy shopping!

  Wayfair: Up to 65% off on Living Room Furniture and Decor.

  Serena & Lily: Huge Outdoor Furniture and Decor Sale.

  Pottery Barn: Flash Sale Up to 70% off!

  Joss & Main: Under $200: Large Area Rugs.

  Popular Posts:

Classic Home with Wrap-around Porch.

Beautiful Homes of Instagram: New-construction Home.

White Home with Front Porch.

California Modern Farmhouse Home.

Modern Farmhouse with Wrap-around Porch.

Black Modern Farmhouse with Black and White Interiors.

California Beachfront House.

Jaw-dropping Before and After Kitchen Renovation.

Painted Brick Home.

Inspiring Charlotte Home Tour.

New England style Shingle Home.

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New-construction Florida Home.

Riverside Modern Farmhouse Tour.

Reinvented Traditional Kitchen Design Ideas.

Lake House Renovation.

California Fixer Upper.

Beautiful Homes of Instagram: Florida.

California Home Interior Design Ideas.

Florida House for Sale.

California Modern Farmhouse for Sale.

Beautiful Homes of Instagram: Modern Farmhouse.

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“Dear God,

If I am wrong, right me. If I am lost, guide me. If I start to give-up, keep me going.

Lead me in Light and Love”.

Have a wonderful day, my friends and we’ll talk again tomorrow.”

with Love,

Luciane from HomeBunch.com

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